Even Bats Fall
by BlueBastard
Summary: Bruce Wayne is finished playing Dark Knight. Done. The Joker is MORE than displeased. Can the clown ensnare a falling bat? SLASH. Joker/Batman
1. Slow spiral down

Title: Even Bats Fall

Summary: Bruce Wayne is finished playing Dark Knight. Done. The Joker is MORE than displeased. Can the clown ensnare a falling bat? SLASH. Joker/Batman

Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from the writing of this fanfiction. All characters are property of DC, Christopher Nolan, and etc.  
>-o-o-o-<p>

"I told you so..." The singsong tone warped the hideously familiar cackle from the gloom of the cell next to him.

Batman grunted, spitting the drying taste of copper onto the cold cement, his head still flaring with flashes of pained light. The cops were not as forgiving as the Dark Knight should have hoped for, but he could take it. As he knew full well. As Gordon himself knew.

"I beat your little game, Joker. Harvey's name is clear. You have no sacrificial lamb for Gotham any longer." Batman growled, fighting to stay conscious. Thankful they had not decided to take either his mask, or his Kevlar away from him. He could assume it was for good behavior. But it wasn't. Probably due to some behind the scenes workings of a certain police commissioner.

"Who says he was my sacrificial lamb?" Joker murmured gleefully, dragging himself to the bars between them, pressing his grin onto cold steel to get as close as he could.

Once again, the maniacal genius had the Knight stumped, and that was no easy feat. Joker had stated himself Dent was his ace in the hole. Batman's drawn back growl was filled with a surge of irritation, "...WHAT?"

"Bats, you never spend any time with me anymore. And making the effort to gather and kill your so called 'innocents' is becoming a real humbug." The Joker's tone came across as -for lack of a better word- whining.

Disbelief etched itself in the Batman's visible features, those brown eyes just *staring* at the clown.

He. Could not. Be SERIOUS.

"What? I can't be frank for once?" The Joker questioned, hurt. Or at least feigning it. Bruce could not be fooled into thinking this... this murderer was capable of such humane emotions.

When the Dark Knight remained silent, the green haired man took it upon himself to fill the void, hands loosely gripping the bars.

"Do you remember... remember the time there was that *really* nice party? And I was chatting with that lovely broad, and I, uh, happened to mention I like a little fight in 'em, and *you* said then I'll LOVE you?" The Joker drawled, smile on his face as if recounting a fond memory.

Batman distinctly remembered the danger during that particular fundraiser, the trouble Rachel was in, and the feel of his fists on the Joker's henchmen. Through clenched teeth, Batman demanded, "Your point?"

"The answer is yes." The Joker said simply.

Batman frowned, an uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach. Should he really be playing this game? "...Yes what?"

"Yes I love you."

Bruce did not think his eyes could get any wider. Though they instantly narrowed to slits, his voice gruffer than normal as he snarled with raw emotion, "You're *insane*..."

"So I've been told." Joker agreed nonchalantly, as if he had just disclosed tomorrow's weather rather than having made a fond declaration to his sworn enemy.

In the very cell next to him.

They weren't in Arkham. Oh no, not yet. Batman had been caught sooner than anyone but the Joker had planned. Who knew a crash course in automotive could prove so useful on an expensive bat cycle?

Seeing the bat all trussed up for him, with just gangly strips of metal between them... it did wonders for the deranged psychopath. Just when he had thought his libido had been on permanent recall, here comes along the Dark Knight. Yanking it back from the void. As Joker eyed the Kevlar imposing figure, the armor doing nothing to hide the taut muscles and trim physique of the other, he realized he could not have chosen a better looking vigilante. And the way the man fought... Just watching him made him harder than the glaciers in the arctic. Such speed. Such strength. Such brutality in his quest for justice. For the better side in humanity that the Joker knew to be a farce. Ah, the naive Bat.

So noble. So... imperfectly sane.

The perfect yin to his yang.

Though the other would fervently deny such a thing down to his very core.

As if to prove him right, a low growl emerged at the Bat noticing Joker's savoring gaze. The grin fit dashingly on the clown's painted face.

Perfect.

"That's all right, I'm not, uh, expecting an answer any time soon. Not ever. At least, not the *real* one..." Joker cackled, lithe tongue darting out to wet painted lips, leaning back on his heels as he studied the Dark Knight intently.

"Shut up." Batman growled, keeping his gaze from the flash of the pink appendage, slumping further into his seat as he felt his consciousness bleed from him. Almost in time with that nice little bullet wound Harvey had given him, his lower right abdominals twitching in pain. At least it had been a clean wound. Entry and exit. None of those messy shells to deal with. No leaking organs. Pure luck. Though Bruce's body protested as he felt himself start the slow spiral downward.

No Tumbler to take him home.

No Alfred to tend to his injuries, the old Butler ex-special forces, and used to many aggravating wounds himself.

What was the... point anymore? He was taking the wrap for Harvey's crimes. To a city that easily turned its back on him time and time again. Yeah, he had told Gordon he could take it. Batman knew he could take it. But Bruce Wayne... he was feeling a little more... depressed. He recognized these numbing feelings for what they were. Recognized the tell tale signs of a dangerous concussion paired with blood loss and a hint of shock.

But part of him -the part that mourned Rachel and the loss of Harvey's soul- wondered if it truly mattered anymore. Why not succumb to the beckoning of death's dark hands, tempting him so with the promise of a deep deep sleep. Without despair. Without torment. Without the bitter disappointment that returned at the dawn of each day, as Batman limped home to the sounds of sirens in the distance. Where he shed his nightly cloak to become Bruce, only to hear the whispering slander of his name throughout the day.

The Joker frowned, but not at his Bat's hidden response. Oh no. More from the fact that he had hoped the cops would not fall too much into their darker natures when apprehending Gotham's self-incriminated son. Harvey he had pushed to do it. So it was understandable his was the worst wound. But the cops? They did it all on their lonesome, believing the web of lies the Bat and his cop buddy thought would 'save the city' or some such nonsense.

They really did a number on him. And it did not sit well with the clown.

Not.

At.

All.

"You should really not go to sleep-" The Joker started to advise.

Batman was not in the mood. Not now, not ever with the clown. He flashed a dark look at the other, almost startled when he thought perhaps he saw a glimmer of what... *concern*... on his face? Head hanging limply, a cold sweat breaking beneath the heavy armor, Bruce growled, "Shut-"

"Not good for your health, Bats. No no no no."

"-*up*." Batman hissed sluggishly. His vision of the painted menace blurring. Why was everything moving?

He was no longer sitting, but had somehow ended up on the floor. Then the pain and Bruce's foggy mind connected the falling portion he must've missed. He heard a cursed hiss from the next cell over, and some clanking and rattling.

And suddenly the Joker was there, concerned hands on his person, painted face swimming in his vision.

He didn't wonder at the locks that should've separated them. The cuffs that should be limiting the Joker's free hands. No. His concern was closer to home.

Particularly on the strange warm thrill at having the touches of the dangerous man on his person. Bruce's mind recoiled at what that could imply.

Batman's reaction was instantaneous.

"GET your hands *off* of ME!" He roared, finding enough strength to stand, tossing the maniac across the cell. But just as quickly as it had come, it faded, the Dark Knight sagging to one knee, barely holding on. He could feel the warm trickle of blood dripping from his wound, body unconsciously curling itself, favoring his right side, his arms currently unable to hover protectively over it.

They hadn't treated him. Probably thanks in part to the reinforced Kevlar, and part to the killing spree he had Gordon pin on him. He had had worse. Some of 'em with the same exact man that for some reason was expressing an unhealthy dose of interest in his own wellbeing.

"Temper temper." Joker admonished, standing and dusting off his green vest, adjusting his tailor made baby blues underneath. They had liberated him of his purple coat, once they had discovered one too many of his sharp and explosive surprises. Everyone's a critic nowadays. They had even taken his shoes.

His *shoes*.

As if every other average joe hadn't invested in hidden blades rather than steel toes.

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't go and do something rash. Like, heh, *dying*, for instance." Joker explained, approaching the downed Bat once more, albeit a little more cautiously. Should've known a wounded Bat still had some kick to it.

His brow creased as he remembered a previous interrogation he had with the crazed clown. Joker, in all seriousness, had told Batman that he *completed* him. It was nice to know he was more entertaining than your average, run of the mill, mobster. But this amount of attention was not... well, *normal*. Bordering obsessive, really. Then again, when was anything EVER normal when the Joker was concerned?

"Your concern is touching but... I'll be FINE. Go back to your own cell." Batman retorted gruffly, forcing his burning gaze to focus on the mad man rather than close to the blissful sleep that intended to embrace him forever.

Joker frowned at that, circling the other as he made his way as if to do just as the Dark Knight prescribed, "You always did make it an annoying habit of playing the lone gunman oh so well, Batsy."

"Worked well against you, *Joker*." The way the Bat's rich voice rasped his name, the tone dipping deeper, made the clown shiver with anticipation. The vigilante may not know it yet, but their paths were destined to be intertwined. Forever and ever if the Joker had a say in it.

As much as he enjoyed a good show of pain, it tugged at a not so good feeling as he watched his Bat struggling.

...DYING, so to speak...

Or at least close to it, if the stubborn man gave in to the cruel joke of sleep. It was absolutely NOT funny. In this case.

"Not..." The Joker took a step, head cocking to follow the movement, delighting as those eyes tracked him suspiciously. Then another, "...quite, Batsy."

Then he lunged in, startling the other, kneeling man.

Bruce found surprise widening his eyes once more, but for a different reason altogether. A hungry mouth, warmer than his own, claimed his lips. The searing heat of the Joker's tongue invading the slightly parted opening, plundering the treasures of the cavern within. An electric jolt of pure emotion twinges down his spine. Something he thought long gone after Rachel was taken. A gloved hand cupped the back of his dark cowl, urging the frozen Dark Knight deeper into the one-sided invasion.

If there was any chance he would've relented to slumber eternal, it was completely banished now, as he tried to wrap around the complete shock that had taken a hold of his senses.

The Joker, his archenemy, was kissing him!

With a growl rising from deep in his chest, rumbling fiercely up his throat, Bruce wrenched his head away, stumbling onto his back from the force of his escape. Anything right now was better than the unwanted contact. No matter how his body strangely rebelled at the loss. This was Joker! How could he possibly-

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Bruce snarled in his full Batman rage, managing an intimidating aura, even sprawled down as he was. He sorely wished for the use of his arms. Punching the Joker's face in did always make him feel better. It couldn't be any different to solve the dilemma of his turbulent vortex of emotions right then.

"Saving your life..." Joker replied, giddy at the intense reaction while his fingers brushed his painted lips. Never could he have imagined a kiss with The Batman would be so... electric. He felt more alive than when he was burning down a building. Or carving into some schmuck's face. Or even sparring with the Bat himself. He wanted, no needed, no he *craved* more. As he blatantly stared at the man currently propped up from the ground with one bound elbow, one knee raised, Joker murmured softly, "Mm, I think I want seconds..."

Bruce could feel his heart pounding in his ears, all tendrils of sleepiness had vanished. He especially did NOT like the way the other hovered over him, as a crazed jackal would a wounded falcon. A hungry glint to his blue eyes. This was the Joker. The lunatic who always had something up his sleeve.

And he was threatening to kiss him again, a pink tongue darting out to wet painted lips.

"Stay the HELL *away* from me, Joker." That graveled voice warned with as much venom as he could muster. But this only served to dredge up the exact opposite reaction Bruce was aiming for.

"Ooh, Batsy wants to play coy?" Joker cackled with amusement, taking a step forward, "I DO so ENJOY this kind of dance..."

With a growl, Bruce scrambled to his feet, pointed devil horns tilted forward as he glowered, "Touch me again, and I *will* hurt you."

The Joker skipped forward, following the Bat step for backward step, as he crooned, "Ooh, is that a *promise*? I do so love foreplay..."

Bruce did not like the look in those blue eyes, as if they swam up out of the charcoal pool of Joker's grease paint just to snag him and drag him back down with the clown. Green curled hair hung messily around his face, as if trying to hide the wickedly painted smile. The scheming face. And the way the man held himself was always with such... confidence. Sure his hunched shoulders could do with better posture, but it actually enhanced the air Joker carried with him of mayhem and danger. And that little dash of crazy that was purely him.

It was all too distracting.

Joker himself, was busy drinking in the sight of his sole obsession for what seemed forever, yet not enough. It made him giddy to see the Batman backing away, as though any part of the Dark Knight could really be afraid. Of who? Little old Joker? Heh eheh heh. For all the form-fitting Kevlar the man wore, the dark suit just hugging obscenely to those wondrously cut muscles and tapered down waist, the Joker felt the Bat was just ASKING to be fucked. And who better to do the job, than little old him?

"Heh eheh heh heh..." That dark laugh sent a thrill of danger down Bruce's spine, his throat suddenly dry. What had he ever done to garner the Joker's attention?

Be aware of your surroundings, one of the hardest lessons for Bruce to learn during his misguided training into the League of Shadows. He was used to focusing on a single goal. On a target. All his rage, all his senses attuned to it. So when his back hit the steel bars of his cell, his eyes widened a fraction, knowing he had made a grave mistake. Before he could spin away, Joker -having planned it all from the start- lunged forward to make full use of the Bat's error.

Wayne was knocked breathless as the slim, yet unmistakably powerful, form of green and blue and purple pinned him to the spot, his handcuffed wrists clanging painfully against the metal bars behind him.

"Atatata ta, Batsy. It would seem *I* lead this dance." Joker reprimanded, loving the power he held over his counterpart.

The dull thrill of outwitting the Mob bosses was nothing compared to checkmating *his* Bat. He could hardly remember how he could stand the grey monotony of life before his colorful Batman entered the picture. The fact that his Bat sported one dark color scheme had no say in the analogy at all.

"I'll let you in on a secret, Bats." Joker whispered conspiratorially, using all of his strength to keep the dark armored man pinned, the struggles increasing, "Gotham. Harvey Dent. The social experiment... they were all elaborate plans. But all, erm, elaborate ruses. Now the real plan, the *master* plan that defines ALL the plans before it, well... boils down to one single goal. Or rather, heh heh, one single person."

The scowl on Bruce's face darkened. He did not like where this was headed. He did not relish the fact that the Joker could even pin him there, his wounds apparently taking a bigger toll on his energy reserves than he had first believed. His bound arms didn't help matters, the muscles twitching in anticipation of colliding angular knuckles against a cackling face. And the Joker could tell, if the widening grin was any indicator. The mad man always did take a certain pleasure from making Batman angry.

"And I should care because-" Bruce started to demand, gaze narrowing.

But the Joker interrupted in a gush of excitement, leaning closer as he cackled, "Because it's you! Hee hee aheh heh..."

The green haired menace dipped down, murmuring into the stiffened neck, "It has *always*..." Bruce's eyes widened as he felt the wet warmth of the Joker's tongue, trailing from his collar upwards. You would think the Kevlar would protect him from the sensation, but for some reason it merely enhanced it, making a quick flush rise in his cheeks at the bold and shameless move. He quickly turned his head in revulsion, eyes screwed so tight they were almost shut. But he couldn't afford that with the Joker so close. So dangerously close. The Joker didn't mind at all that his Bat turned away, it made it easier for him to end his lick on the masked ear piece, humming as if it was the simplest thing in the world, "...*always* been you Bats..."

Bruce didn't realize he had frozen solid until he turned to stare at the clown as if he had lost more than his head, struggles renewing as he snarled, "You *are* INSANE. Get OFF!"

"Oh ho ho, I *intend* to Bats. But, Uh... you first." The Joker snickered.

Before Batman could growl a suitable retort, his utility buckle had clanked on the ground, and a slim hand had wriggled its way into the waistband of his form-fitting Kevlar suit. Bruce gave a startled choke, helmet clanging hard against the bars as he threw his head back, the instantaneous pleasure of that talented hand gripping his cock more than he could bear.

"F-fuck!" That raspy growl was the most delicious sound the Joker had ever heard, delighted that HE had been the one to extract such a lovely specimen. But the clown was known for his selfish, greedy nature. That, and he always wanted *more* when it came to his Dark Knight.

His Batman.

Bruce Wayne cursed again, his hands reflexively gripping the steel to keep him from fallings, knees weak from the jolts of Joker-inflicted heat. He would really rather prefer the clown stabbing him than this... this perversity! He was the Dark Knight!

This was the Joker.

The Joker!

That didn't stop the audible moan ripped from his throat as that hand did sinful things to his throbbing shaft.

"Didn't expect the dick of the Bat to be so, er," a pointed lick, hooded eyes, "satin soft. We live the pampered life outside the shadows of the night, Batsy?"

That snapped the Bat out of it, as he strengthened his resolve and gave the Joker's forehead a taste of his armored helm. His own head rang, but he was sure it was nothing compared to what the Joker must be feeling. The painted man staggered back, holding his head and whining about 'fuzzies'.

The scene almost made the Bat miss his opportunity.

Almost.

But he couldn't be stuck in the same building, let alone the same cell as the man. He just couldn't! The crazed, obsessed maniac was gonna molest him. Or worse, kiss him again. He hadn't fought back when the officers beat him. Hadn't resisted when they cuffed him and dragged him down to the precinct. Hadn't even made a peep as they drawled out his rights while kicking him out in the back alley.

He could see now this was a mistake.

It wasn't the police he should be worried about. It wasn't Gotham's bleak future or the lengthy jail time. Or the criminals he would be stuck with. He could handle them all. All but one.

Batman had miscalculated.

It was Joker.

And his innate ability to crawl under Bruce's skin. To get out, under, or around anything that got in his way. Which, apparently, was straight in the direction of the Dark Knight. And Bruce had yet to figure out why.

WHY?

As if the psycho could ACTUALLY be in love with him.

First of all, the Joker didn't even know WHO was under the batsuit. Secondly, the few times they had met it was to beat each other to a pulp during one of the Joker's grander schemes. And thirdly, it was so- so... INSANE.

All of it.

And Bruce was done.

DONE.

"To hell with this." Batman muttered darkly, stomping his boot on the ground to elongate hidden spurs at his heels. Much like Joker's switchblade in the shoe trick, except backwards.

With hairpin accuracy, he drew up his leg and kicked back between lowered and bound wrists. The cuffs broke with a satisfying 'chink' and his shoulders were relieved of the constant pressure as his arms hung loose. With a rumbled roar, Batman charged the Joker before he could recover, slamming him into the bench at the back wall of his cell.

His wounds didn't appreciate the movement, but the adrenaline prevented him from noticing too much. That is, of course, until a certain painted clown traced a hand down his ripped torso, fingers resting atop the bullet wound. An obscene amount of blood was flowing free from the reopened hole, and the Joker seemed entranced.

"A few more hands up... and it would've cracked your little heart..." The Joker snickered in a daze, looking up at the furious features of Gotham's Dark Knight.

"You win, Joker." Batman breathed cryptically, fists bunched in the fabric of the mad genius's custom made shirt and vest.

The Joker perked up at that, his eye clearing, "Do I now? Eheh heh... What do you mean?" His voice was lyrical, pleased.

"I'm done." Batman grunted simply. Seriously.

The whimsical tone dropped from his voice as the Joker asked, confused, perhaps a little nervously, "What do you mean...?"

What *did* he mean?

But as usual, his mind had made itself up long before his consciousness could catch up. Batman was just as surprised as the flicker of intense emotions he could see fluttering across that painted face as he replied with dead calm, his rage -for once- under control, "With this. With everything. With YOU. Gotham is on its own."

There was dead silence from the clown. Then he started writhing and hissing and clawing like flames licked at his boots, a crazed gleam to his eye as the Joker screamed, "No-n-no no no NO NO NO *NO*! You can't j-just LEAVE! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!"

"I'm through with your games. Your sick MIND tricks. I can leave. And I WILL." Batman growled, deriving sick pleasure in seeing the Joker himself shaken, for a change, "There's no room for me to stay. The police won't stop this time. Will never stop. What's the point in fighting crime AND the officers of the law at the same time? Your ace-in-the-hole, Dent, has forced my hand in this. Batman will *never* be welcome here."

Those mad hands scrambled before finding an iron purchase on Batman's shoulders, Joker's frantic smile twitching, "*NO*!... No... I'll draw you out, kill some people. Maybe, heh heh, maybe the whole city if I must."

Batman barely blinked, "Won't work this time, Joker. Not this time."

The Joker leaned closer, ignoring the pained pressure of the Bat's forearm against his windpipe -an obvious attempt to keep him back- as he hissed, "I'll find you."

It was an ominous promise.

Batman leaned forward as well, pausing only when his mouth was near the Joker's ear. The words were said so deeply that the painted man strained to hear. It was said with such finality, that the Joker knew the Bats was serious this time. Rage flickered instantly on his chalked features when he heard the words, but then he was down for the count, the Batman hitting him with some sort of gas.

The words haunted Joker's slipping hold on reality, as he slumped to the ground, staring with disbelief at the dark figure rising up. Towering over him. As the other always seemed to do.

But it was his words that tore at the Joker's heart, sending shivers of rage to clump down his throat, swallowed by whatever substance the Bat had sprayed him with.

How the Joker prayed for a kick in the ribs, a slug to the face. Any physical torment was better than this.

Than those words.

Joker's lids fluttered close with a grimace contorted on his painted face.

"NO..." The Dark Knight had promised, "You WON'T." 


	2. Jagged Steps

"You were right, Alfred." Bruce Wayne lay stretched in his own bed, an IV drip and an odd assortment of medical equipment hooked into him to speed up the healing process, "I should've done this a looong time ago."

"What sir? Actually allowing me to get you medical care as soon as possible? Or ridding yourself of the suit once and for all?" The Englishman asked with a quirk of a brow.

Bruce grinned at his old friend's dry wit, "Both, I guess."

"Indeed." That cracked a smile on the old man's face, though he turned to retrieve Wayne's finished glass as he asked, "But tell me, sir. Was it necessary or wise to provoke the caged monster before your hasty escape?"

"Neither, Alfred. But I was feeling generous. That madman molested me-"

"I *don't* require details, sir."

"-and he deserved it. Besides, it's his own damn fault I can't patrol the streets anymore."

"So, this is just temporary? Throwing down the cape and cowl?" Alfred questioned, focused on the young Master on the bed. Part of him wished it was. But more of him hoped it wasn't. A good deed was a good deed, but the Batman business was far riskier than he could have ever perceived.

What would Bruce's father say?

Then again, Bruce's great-great grandfather DID assist in the whole underground railroad era. It seemed noble aspirations to help the truly unfortunate ran thick through the Wayne bloodline. But that did not mean Alfred would stop worrying.

After all, he only agreed to the whole thing in the first place because he did not want the young Master running off for seven years to the corners of the world. Again.

That, and the way Bruce Wayne's entire soul thrummed vibrant and full of life during the construction stage of the bat character was just... how could Alfred possibly say no?

"No. Yes. I mean, ugh! I don't know, Alfred!" When those confused brown eyes turned up to him, the butler felt his heart wrench. Master Wayne was a young boy once more, that look on his face more than familiar.

Bruce was lost.

"What do you think I should do, Alfred?" The question was barely audible, as if the answer was one to be feared.

Why did men fall?

So they can learn to pick themselves back up again.

But repeating the same expression would not help the poor chap out this time. Alfred could tell. This one was deep. Maybe even too deep for Alfred's frail hands to reach.

"I cannot even *begin* to fathom which path is best for you, Master Bruce. This is a decision I feel I should not influence. Only you can choose." Alfred stated calmly, gazing out the elaborate glass window of the Wayne Manor.

A silence descended then.

Bruce fiddling with his blankets while Alfred stood patiently.

"I know one thing at least," Bruce Wayne murmured, a small smile tracing his lips, "the Joker isn't laughing now."

-o-o-o-

When he came to, the Joker wasn't hysterical. Wasn't upset. Furious. Angry. Didn't go calmly through all the stages of denial. No, not the Joker.

He shot past all of them.

He was *livid*.

Even with the straight jacket, the chains, the cuffs, it had taken twenty guards, five bruised staff, and a good two hours before they had the raging lunatic locked safe and sound in his cell. The only coherent word they could get through all the spittle and gnashing teeth was a name.

Batman.

They did not think the vigilante's escape would affect the clown like it did. But they had prepared just in case. Something that, in hindsight, was an absolute godsend. Who knows what might've gone down otherwise.

Joker rocked back and forth, oblivious to the stark stares and worried glances he aspired.

He had him.

He HAD the Bat RIGHT where he wanted him, all according to plan.

Then he had to- had to *ruin* it! By escaping! And those dreaded words.

Batman didn't want to play. Didn't want the Joker to find him.

The constant mantra of /you won't you won't you won't/ buzzing through his painted head.

He'd show him. Oh he would.

Joker felt one of the buckles loose, grinning madly as his mind whirred to hatch another brilliant escape.

-o-o-o-

"Sir, I think you should see this." Alfred murmured, switching on the television set as Bruce glanced up at him over his toast and crinkled newspaper.

He was comfortable in his plush, royal blue bathrobe, detached from the monitors and IV drips far too early for Alfred's liking, but down in the kitchen all the same. Bruce's brown gaze flickered over to the plasma tv that spanned the wall above the marble counters, the steady buzz of news filling the content silence.

::-reports have been coming in throughout the day, Commissioner! Commissioner Gordon, what do you have to say about the recent escape?-::

The video panned to a shot of the haggard police officer's face, his brow creased deep under his thick frames, ::There is not much to say. The ten armor truck transport was attacked on Joker's short trip from the department to Arkham. His whereabouts at this time are unknown, and no threats have come in. I'm sorry, but that's all I have on the matter.::

Bruce swallowed the hard piece of toast like it was a rock in his throat.

"Well..." He cleared his throat, but just set the newspaper down and stared at the counter top.

"I... just thought you should know, Master Wayne." Alfred spoke softly, turning to head out of the room, "Once again, sir, I would like to inform you that my opinions on the matter have not changed. Though I do advise maybe, a change of scenery...?"

"Thank you Alfred..." Bruce Wayne replied, tone equally quiet.

When the Englishman had stepped out, Bruce quickly raised his head, "Oh, and Alfred-?"

"I know, Master Wayne." The butler came back in the room with two large suitcases, "I have taken the liberty of purchasing myself a ticket to the Bahamas. No supermodels or a whole cast of Russian ballet dancers to cater to on fancy yachts, just me, myself, and some fine English wine."

When the billionaire opened his mouth to protest, Alfred beat him to it by stating, "And no, sir, I did not book a travel arrangement for you yet. I had a feeling you might want to mull this whole affair for a while yourself. Perhaps come to terms with certain things."

The smile that graced the playboy's lips was the first real one in a while. It was disturbing the old man knew him so well, while coming off as incredibly comforting. Would his father have known the same? Probably not. Alfred meant the world to Bruce, and the old man was proving once again, that the feeling was mutual.

"Try not to get swept off your feet to become a servant for some multibillionaire heiress." Bruce grinned playfully, "Remember, they can't possibly pay you what I do."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." Alfred smirked. Though they both knew, it was not about the money.

Not at all.

-o-o-o-

Where is he, where is he, where is he, where IS HE?

Joker killed another one of his goons in his current warehouse hideout. Suffice to say the rest of them stayed safely out of the way.

He couldn't take it.

He had thought a couple robberies, a couple killing sprees, and some good old explosions would bring the bat out of hiding. And that was all just in the first two days of his escape. But he was a no show.

No no no no NO!

This was NOT how it's supposed to go.

There was no one to dance with, now that the Bat was making good on his promise. The citizens were a joke. The cops were so easy to read that they were oh-so-predictable.

Even the Mob bosses were afraid of him.

Batman was the only worthy adversary. The only one who could truly catch him, beat his plans. As he had proved time and time again. Even his ace-in-the-hole Harvey Dent had failed him. Even in death, Batman had been able to twist the truth in the public's eye. At his own cost.

That man truly was incorruptible.

Helluva way to take one for the team. For the Gotham residents, Batman had sacrificed his reputation. His livelihood. The ability to show up at night and pound some bad guys without constantly watching his back for cops. Joker growled. He gave it all up. For *them*. THEY didn't deserve him.

Slamming his fist through a window, Joker relished in the pain. Imagined it was from his Bat, even as droplets of blood formed on his knuckles. He turned his clenched hand, allowing the deceptively pretty shards to tinkle onto the cold floor, sprinkling it like so much fairy dust.

He recalled the most recent heist. Blew the south wall of the mob bank to high heavens. Wasn't subtle about it. Didn't make any elaborate plans. Just stood near the entrance, his favorite Dopey clown mask pulled over his painted face, as his men scrambled like dogs to pull off the robbery in the five minutes he allotted them. He had cackled.

Had been SO sure his favorite Bat would show.

But for the seventh time... NOTHING.

Just stupid pigs in blue. When he saw their irritating lights, he just blew the whole damn street up with rigged explosives. He had another small twinge of hope that maybe THIS would bring out the vigilante.

Only to be faced with disappointment to his very core, his shards of hope shriveling and twisting in the raging fire.

Angry once more, he stormed downstairs, where a group of his cronies were busying themselves with a game of poker.

"Going out." He declared to no one in particular.

"You... Uh, want one of us to come with ya boss?" One of the crew, a tough guy that exchanged fearful glances with the others before standing, asked hesitantly. Some shook their head, others shrugged, but most looked pointedly at the ground or the table beneath their quivering chins. The Joker was good to 'em. Paid them more than their fair share of the loot. Didn't even keep much, if any of it, himself. The ones that stayed the longest figured out long ago that the boss did it for the thrill. The pure high that kicked in during the rush and danger and excitement.

But then there were dangerous lows. You did NOT wanna mess with the boss during these times. Sometimes it was not safe to even LOOK at him.

And THIS... was one of those times.

The green-haired man did not even turn. Didn't stop in his warpath. The speaker just fell, knife protruding his thick skull as the Joker closed the door, a nasal grunt of "No," left behind in the silent room.

Unaware, or uncaring, of the tense warehouse he had left behind, Joker muttered darkly, "...So hard to find good help these days..."

But his mind was elsewhere. His posture sullen and dejected as he stuck gloved hands in purple pockets, hearing the clank of homemade grenades and throwing knives as he jostled them pensively while he walked.

He *could* just give up.

Ignore the Bat ever existed-

NO.

He couldn't even finish the thought, much less follow through with it. Letting out a large gush of air between clenched teeth, the Joker snarled and shouted, throwing fists in the air and kicking at nothing. How could he do this? How could Batman DO THIS TO HIM?

Didn't he realize what the Joker did?

They were meant to be. All the Joker did, everything... was for him. For his special brand of Kevlar attention. That deep voice, those eyes. That righteous anger. Joker shivered in memory of it all. He remembered what it was like to be pinned against the wall by his collar, the Bat flush against him to keep the clown there, and it sent a jolt of excitement through him. Joker audibly moaned. He needed to feel that again.

Needed someone who wasn't afraid.

Needed HIM.

Joker cursed, turning to pick up a garbage lid, throwing it into the nearest window. As the glass shattered beautifully, the tin lid making a resounding thud with a fizzed explosion, the clown realized this was an electronics store. He picked up a rock, about to toss it at the annoying broadcaster on the set when he paused, listening curiously as the camera focused on a handsomely dark-haired man, eyes as sharp as his features, though it only enhanced his rugged good looks. The suit, Joker noted, was a crisp name brand. Armani, or some such expensive thing.

::-just moments away from the multibillionaire Bruce Wayne of Wayne Industries, here on Park Avenue and Sixth Street, from revealing his generous donation to our Gotham City Police Division. Let's take a-::

Joker frowned.

Bruce, huh? Sounds familiar.

No matter, this just could not stand. He chucked the rock at the screen, knifing the owner that rushed him with a shotgun, before turning easily back to the street.

He hailed a cab.

Though... his methods may have been a little unorthodox. If you count standing in the middle of the road, waving around a gun, then shooting the first cab driver you see, a little different. He pulled the cabby out with a grimace and a muttering of, "E-yuck, heh eheh, *that's* gonna stain..." before dumping the body unceremoniously on the curb. But NOW the shopkeeper's dead body had some company. It was a fuckin' party.

He peeled out instantly, cackling a little as he ran over part of the dead cabby's leg that must've been hanging off the curb. Cars honked at him at his intrusion into the road, their tiny brains too single-tracked to notice that Joker had done at least three counts of crime before their pathetic faces. Joker honked back, not enough time to make 'em regret making such bland noises at him. He had a public meeting to make.

Honking once more, Joker started cackling maniacally as he swerved around traffic and sped past red lights to get to his destination.

Couldn't miss it, now could he?

-o-o-o-

Bruce felt the guilt flowing in his veins. It has been two weeks, and crime has run rampant on the streets of Gotham. A particular painted clown doing most of the damage. The mob bosses, knowing the Joker was the probable cause of the Batman's disappearance, were too afraid to cross the man. If he could be called that. His insane, killing tendencies and lack of fear for his own well-being were hard qualities to forget. They were too afraid to even notice Joker wasn't paying them any attention, apart from the occasional robbery at one of their banks. Probably a cry for attention from Bruce's alter ego.

And it almost worked. At so many instances.

Bruce Wayne couldn't even count the number of times he found himself rushing to the hidden elevator, his hand stopping just short of closing the doors and pushing the button to descend. He would stand there for what seemed like hours, before forcing himself out. It had been driving him nuts.

So he had moved out to his pent house in the city. Of course that had its own little hidden alcove as well, but it wasn't habit to rush to the masked thumb scanner that would swing open half the wall in one of the guest bedrooms. It had been slightly easier to stop the constant racing to don the Batsuit. But he made himself step out every morning, to watch the city burn from his pent house view, to see just what kind of decision he was making. Bruce twitched every time he heard police sirens, clenched his teeth when he heard someone yelling for help, and stopped breathing altogether when the Joker's name was said on the news. He was just glad Alfred hadn't stayed to watch the neurotic mess he was slowly becoming.

Then the brilliant idea had come to him. Just because HE couldn't do anything, didn't mean he couldn't donate a good lump of money to the hardworking police force, who *could*. Especially if he entrusted the money to the newly appointed Police Commissioner, Gordon. Untainted. Uncorrupt. The true epitome of a good, honest, and hardworking man of the force. Unfortunately, good honest men wouldn't accept the money without a public spectacle. A small price for Bruce to pay, he supposed, in order for the money to go to the right places.

But he still hated these gatherings. Even before being Batman, he felt the whole debacle leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed, a bitter taste in his tongue at the fake, incredibly happy persona he had to play off for his image. As if ANYONE was truly happy all the time. Though he supposed people figured a whole lot of money ought to do the trick. If only...

But he felt so... empty.

He couldn't believe he was even *thinking* it, but he was actually MISSING Batman. As if he were a whole other person. And not a part of himself. It felt good knowing he was doing good for the city. And he was doing it now, just... in a less... violent and satisfying manner.

"-man of the hour, Bruce Wayne himself!"

Bruce snapped out of it, nearly missing his cue right before the thunderous applause. Gordon was standing by the podium, turning to beckon the billionaire with a true grin. He had feared the boy he had rescued so many years ago was truly the scandalous playboy he appeared to the world. But his fears were proved false when he met the man, a beating heart as good as that of his father's. Wishing well towards the future of the corrupt city. Batman had been the sledgehammer to crack down the scum of the sewers. And with his forced disappearance, Bruce Wayne was more than capable of filling in those large shoes. Even if it was only in monetary value. Something seriously lacking when funds passed hands under the table.

Wayne answered the grin with a dazzling smile of his own, making more than a few ladies in the crowd swoon. He stood to walk the few steps to the microphone, shaking Gordon's hand with a warm nod, "Commissioner."

"Bruce," Gordon acknowledged, leaning in to whisper, "I knew your father very well, and he would be proud."

Wayne blinked, not expecting that. But the praise filled him with warmth, and he smiled sincerely, "Thank you, Gordon. I could never forget what you've done for me and my family."

They shared a brief smile, different from the ones shared with the crowd. For a small moment, Bruce imagined this is the look that would be passed from father to son, and surprisingly found himself fighting real tears. He hadn't cried since... well, since he was little boy. Lost and alone in the alley. It had been a hollow comfort when Gordon had informed him his parents' murderer was caught.

Chill.

The name still sparked the rage deep within him.

But Gordon's presence was what really got him through the night, just until Alfred came to pick him up. Then he had cried the whole way home and well into the night. Then...

Well, he had not cried a day since.

Gordon stepped down, giving Bruce the spot light, but not before giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Wayne blinked away unshed tears, turning his dazzling smile on the crowd. Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire once more.

"Thank you, thank you very much," He just gushed gratitude, waiting for the crowd to simmer down before continuing, "But really, I don't deserve this honor. I'm just playing my part in helping out the true heroes, our boys in blue!"

He gestured grandly at the police officers behind them, all surprised at the billionaire's inclusion of them in a ceremony for his honor. They shared dumbfounded looks before nodding and smiling in approval as the crowd erupted in more applause. Gordon just smirked, shaking his head. Leave it to a Wayne to share the glory.

Little did he know Wayne was growling on the inside, his inner Bat remembering the beatings he received. Then again, they DID believe he was responsible for those murders...

So technically it had been an indirect reaction to his and Gordon's formula to save Dent's tarnished reputation, and thereby saving the city as well. For if District Attorney Harvey Dent, the city's proclaimed White Knight, had his actions brought to light, what hope would the people of Gotham have left? If they knew the BEST of them had fallen, well...

Bruce strengthened his jaw, he had chosen this. Had chosen this path. And he would follow through. No matter what. Then maybe he could join Alfred and take a trip of his own. Just relax, far far away from Gotham and psychotic clowns. The thought made him smile.

"But really though, they are the true lifeblood of our fair city." Bruce grinned, turning back to the crowd, "I am only continuing my father's work, so many years ago. Of allowing all our citizens the confidence to roam the streets in relative peace, and security!"

He smiled as they began a thunderous applause once more, cheering. He scanned the crowd, making as much eye contact as possible as he made his rounds. These were the people he had been helping to protect. The ones he was now entrusting the police force to continue protecting.

Then his gaze found familiar blue eyes. That damning smile.

And Bruce's blood froze solid in his veins.

His own smile faltered.

No.

What was HE doing here.

Shit. All these people...

Joker paused, cocking his head as he realized the billionaire caught his gaze. Recognized him, did he? He began cackling, as he realized the suave man did indeed recognize him. Out of ALL these rodents, too. Heh eheh heh.

Interesting...

And here he thought the man to be clueless to everything around him. He certainly seemed the type. Then again, all THIS... well, he didn't seem the type to give all his money away on grand schemes that helped the greater *good*. Ye-uck. The word sent a revolting taste to the back of Joker's throat. He almost gagged. Really. What a waste of energy!

Realizing he was caught, the clown shrugged and started sauntering up through the crowd. The grin on his face widened as he saw the barest flicker of panic light up those brown eyes, the man on the stage tensing. But it was gone in a matter of seconds, the Billionaire showing spine he didn't realize the man could have.

"But l-let's get on to the real reason this ceremony is being held." Bruce stumbled, tearing his gaze away, as much as instinct screamed at him NOT to. He attempted to speed up the process. Whatever the Joker had planned, whatever reason he was there, it couldn't be good. He waved at the guy holding the obscenely large billboard copy of the check, gesturing towards Gordon as he proclaimed, "A check, for Gotham's finest, of one million dollars!"

Gordon looked shocked, as did the rest of the force. The crowd was silent in awe, before erupting once more in applause. A few whistles thrown in this time.

Bruce fronted a fake smile, calming the crowd a little before saying, "All right, that's it folks!"

The clapping faltered, the crowd unsure of the playboy's meaning.

"No more to see here, we should all just head home." Bruce tried again, desperately wanting to make the shooing motion, though he doubted that would help anything at this point. He had lost track of the Joker. This was not good.

When Gordon shot him a confused look, Bruce mouthed the word 'Joker'.

But it was too late.

Someone was still clapping. And loudly at that. Bruce Wayne grimaced as he turned around, that certain someone climbing the raised platform before the police could react.

Everything happened at once.

The crowd gasped. The Commissioner cursed. Bruce frowned. And the Joker smiled widely.

"Atata ta ta." Joker tsked, waving his jacket open at the bombs within, even as some of the cops drew their weapons. It was attached loosely to a string on his thumb, which he waved menacingly beside him. Bruce got the feeling this was not the first time the painted menace pulled this kind of gag. Only the Joker would use a backup plan that involved his own death. The only problem was, it probably worked every time for the lunatic.

Otherwise he wouldn't be standing there.

Bruce Wayne groaned inwardly. This was the LAST person in the entire world that he wanted to see right now. Or ever, for that fact. The inner Bat wanted to growl the man's name, barrel into the other, and pound his face in. But there were so many witnesses, and he was sure it would tip the Joker off as well. Wait, could the Joker know? No... otherwise he would've done something much more drastic. And insane.

Because holding the whole crowd of hundreds, the forefront of the police force, and a billionaire at bomb point was not insane enough. Not for the Joker. He would be dancing in his victory.

No.

The Joker didn't know.

And if Bruce played his cards right, he never would.

The playboy slowly edged away, trying to step out of the middle ground. The podium that sat between the cops and the green-haired lunatic. It was something Bruce Wayne would do, even as Batman raged to stay and fight. He could take the clown! Even without the Kevlar.

But the painted menace noticed.

"And where do you think *you're* going...?" Joker demanded as if there was a hidden joke in his phrase, skipping forward to stand between Bruce and the officers he had tried to step behind. It was just the sort of move a man with lots of money, but no spine or muscle would do. But Joker's eyes narrowed. He was not buying it, "...Bruce, was it...?"

Batman stiffened at the casual use of his name, his original plan -to act cowed and afraid- overpowered by his anger, "Actually, it's *Wayne*."

Joker smiled.

THAT'S more like it. *There's* the backbone he had sniffed a mile away. He didn't know WHY the Billionaire was trying to play scared shitless with him. The Joker invented the game. Relished in it. Knew the star players when he saw 'em. And this Bruce Wayne was no star.

"I prefer *Bruce*..." Joker grinned, pushing his green locks out of the way to better see the irritated brunette's expression. Or was he black-haired? Joker never could tell. Either way, it paid off to see the deep frown burrow into those pristine features. The man truly was sculpted to perfection. From his styled back hair and perfect teeth, to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, down to his brand-spankin' new glossy shoes. But the WAY he held himself. So sure, so just barely in check.

There was just something about him...

Joker felt compelled to get closer, and so he did. Drawing a startled hiss from the man, the billionaire tensed as he snarled, "What do you want, Joker?"

And again it sparked at something inside, but Joker could not grasp the nagging familiarity for the life of him. He had heard this man's name here and there, crashed a few of his parties, few of his warehouses. But he had never actually *met* the billionaire.

So why...?

At the vexed look on that painted face, Bruce knew he was pushing it. He needed to calm down before he started using his gravelly Batman voice. THEN the game would be up for sure. Though Bruce could've sworn he quit the night and dagger stuff so he would NOT have to play these games.

"Look, I'm sure whatever you want can be handled just fine between you and the police..." Bruce Wayne said calmly, rationally, taking a few steps backwards. Since his route to the wall of officers was cut off, he could just step down into the crowd. The less time spent in the maniac's presence, the better.

But he didn't expect the snarled, "No!" or the hand snatching his forearm in a vice-like grip. Clearly, Batman leaving had left the painted menace with some... departure issues...

The touch had raised the hairs beneath Bruce's expensive collar, his trapped arm thrumming as his right twitched, barely stopping his body from the automatic twist and punch response. The touch brought back a flood of memories. Him writhing in the cell under the skilled ministrations of a certain painted menace. It brought a heat to his cheeks. But he played it off as anger, breathing to calm himself. As he stared at the gloved hand, then raised his head slowly to level the Joker with a questioning gaze, he could see a morbid fascination in the blue gaze, swallowed by the inky pool of grease paint.

"You *are*... Interesting..." Joker mulled aloud, as though examining an intricate puzzle. One he was dead set on solving. The smile curled slowly as the Joker sneered at the cowed Police Officers behind him, "More so than these squealing pigs in blue."

Bruce grimaced, tugging at his arm, only to find it trapped in a grip like steel. The Joker always was stronger than he looked. Unfortunately.

Joker's attention snapped back, peering into those hardened brown eyes, "So eager to get away, are we, *Brucy*?"

"No," Wayne retorted a little too quickly. Something that made that devilish grin widen. Clearing his throat at the tightness that constricted it, Bruce added more calmly, though with a hint of his underlying anger, "I just don't particularly enjoy holding hands until the second date. Maybe a drink or two. We are *barely* even acquainted."

Joker stepped closer, enjoying how the tense man didn't even flinch. He despised humanity to its very core. He didn't even LIKE the goons that bent to his every whim and died like so much obedient sheep. *This* man though... this Bruce Wayne... he was quite an, well, an anomaly. He whispered seductively, drunk on the fierce attention he was inspiring, "I could change that..."

That brown gaze solidified, harder than the cracked concrete of Gotham's unforgiving pavement, "*I'd* rather NOT..."

That wrenched a bout of laughter from the clown, as he dragged his unwilling captive to the microphone. Bruce started, having forgotten they were not alone. There was something about the Joker that made everything else just... fade into the background. The Joker licked his lips, tearing his gaze from the surprised billionaire to address the crowd, "People of Gotham, it's SO nice to see you all here today."

They were all like mesmerized lambs to the slaughter, unable to move. Unable to speak.

"I realize my surprise visit was not on the agenda today, but aren't you all asking yourselves? Just why is old Brucy here willing to give so much of his hard earned cash?" That painted face turned to the glowering playboy beside him, his own gaze narrowing, "Is there something he's not, erm, *telling* us? Do you happen to know something we do not, *Bruce* Wayne?"

"I don't know what-"

"Like where the Batman is?" Joker interrupted, noticing the billionaire visibly tense further under his close scrutiny, "You've got connections, you *must* KNOW *something*..."

The slight fear that he was discovered was negated by the Joker's last question. Reigning in his relief, Bruce said, "I don't know what makes you think I would be connected to that scum-"

It was like pulling a trigger, the Joker blowing his lid like Mount Everest, hissing loudly, "HE. IS *NOT*. SCUM!"

But Bruce was expecting this reaction. Was hoping for it actually, as he took the fraction of inattention at the grip, to grab the string to the Joker's thumb. In a move too quick to follow, Bruce had disarmed the string, yanked the clown out of his explosively lined jacket, and tossed it aside. Before the Joker could utilize his rage, Wayne had the man's face colliding against the floor, arms twisted behind him as Bruce pinned him in place with a hard knee to his back.

"Self defense class." Bruce explained simply, lowering his head to hiss into the surprised clown's ear, "You should think about taking it. And maybe consider going to therapy while you're at it. This obsession you have with the Bat character can't be healthy."

But the Joker wasn't shaking with rage. He was laughing. Rolling around on the floor as he cackled, "Got a little fight in you, do you? I LIKE that..."

It was a good thing the painted face was pressed into the floor, otherwise he would have seen the color drain from the billionaire's face. He could not be serious. Why was it that anything Bruce did, as billionaire or vigilante, seemed to catch the green-haired menace's attention?

As the cops rushed in to assist, Bruce gladly stepped aside, visibly shaken. He was barely able to compose himself before the cops forced the man to his feet, arms and legs cuffed. Joker turned instantly to the billionaire, wicked gleam in his eye as he snarled, "I think I *will* take you up on that second date, Brucy..."

"Don't count on it, Joker." Bruce Wayne frowned, dusting off his sleeves in an attempt to straighten his frazzled nerves. He seriously regretted his poor choice of words. But the man merely cackled in response, blue gaze eyeing him intensely. Bruce swallowed the shiver that wanted to run down his spine, shooting a burning glare in the other man's direction, "They don't give parol in the place you're headed to."

"Heh eheh, erm, well that's true Brucy boy, but I, uh, I can make time for you..." A slow smile unfurled, the painted grin stretching widely across the white expanse. The messy application always tugged at the perfectionist in Bruce Wayne, but it gave off the aura he was sure the Joker was looking for. Insane. Crazy. And not someone to be messed with.

So when the Joker made that statement, Bruce felt something clench tightly around his heart. Fear, maybe? But he was NOT afraid of the Joker. He just knew the man well enough to know he did not make idle threats or false promises. A good quality in anyone but the psychotic clown. Strangling whatever nervous feeling he had and crushing it under his expensive soles, Wayne stepped closer to the Joker, glad for the screen of police officers blocking them from view of the crowd and cameras.

"*Don't* waste your time, clown." Bruce snarled, barely fighting the clench of his vocals that would dip his tone in Batman's deeper rasped timbre. He was furious. He hated when Joker played these kind of games with him. Hated how the man could get under his skin.

"Don't worry, I *won't*..." And from the wicked gleam in those azure orbs, he could see the Joker was enjoying his frustration a little too much. Joker licked his lips, liking the way those brown eyes flickered to the flash of pink almost unconsciously. As if drawn to it the same way the Joker was mesmerized by him. Black inkiness swallowed his eyes as he blinked long, and slow. He loved the feel of that burning gaze on his person. Like a warm blanket after weeks out in the cold. He shivered.

Fuck he needed more.

Blue eyes flashed open. Bruce tensed as they locked on him, a feral sound wrenched from that painted throat. With a strength unmatched, the Joker wrenched free from the police holding him, though he couldn't possibly go far with those shackles. Unfortunately for Batman, the clown did not have to go far at all, with him standing so close.

Bruce Wayne hit the ground with a forced grunt, the back of his head knocking on the platform. But his more immediate concern was the warm body that landed right on top of him, cuffed arms and legs giving no room but to have their positions more than intimate. Legs between legs, chests pressed together. That smirking, painted face filled up his entire vision, green curls brushing his cheek bones. Wayne felt the beginnings of full force panic hit him, but he merely began to growl, "Wha-"

Then the Joker's teeth clanked against his at the sudden force, before the scarred lips swallowed his whole. Bruce's heart stopped, his breath caught up in his throat. The Joker rolled sensually, experimentally, and Bruce Wayne gave a strangled whimper at the feel of the clown's hardness pressing in between his most intimate of places. The Joker snarled delightfully, nipping the billionaire's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

That's what stoked the fire in Bruce, making him aware of his surroundings and of the crazed man currently taking advantage of the situation. Batman's strength heaved his arms upwards, shoving the Joker off of him the same moment his fist collided angrily with that painted face. The Joker snorted gleefully as Bruce followed the man down, straddling him as he gripped the man's vest with one fist, forcing him to sit up slightly as the other hovered, ready to strike, "Sick bastard..." Bruce's growl was guttural. Primal.

Furious.

If Joker wasn't in such nirvana right now, he would have recognized the voice for who it was. In the meantime, he merely cackled, looking forward to the next punch as he murmured, "Aw, I didn't come up with a pet name for YOU yet, Brucy..."

Bruce snarled unintelligibly, hitting the Joker once more square in the jaw before allowing the officers to pull him away. Chest heaving, he glared at the maniac as they dragged the Joker to his feet, the other cops letting go of the billionaire once they realized Wayne had himself under control.

The blood trickling down Joker's split lip matched the one bitten on Bruce's. While it made the Joker grin, it only made Bruce Wayne frown more. The air crackled with the intensity between them.

The Comissioner stepped in and the moment was broken. Blue eyes flickered to the officer, before back at Bruce. That tongue snaked out to lick his bloodied lip, "See you soon, Brucy..."

Bruce Wayne, not trusting his voice, merely glared holes into the other, jaw clenched hard enough to ache.

"Take him away." Gordon directed, shaking his head as the menace kicked his feet in the air, laughing loudly as they dragged him away. He stepped up to the Billionaire, concern in his tone as he asked, "Are you all right?"

Bruce put his game face on, letting some of his jumbled nerves show through purposefully as he replied a little shakily, "Yea... Yea I'm fine, Commissioner. Why do you think I'm investing my money in your department? To keep men like HIM off the streets."

Gordon gave into the little laugh Bruce started, scratching the back of his head as he muttered sheepishly, "You seem to have done most of the work, Bruce."

"Chalk it up to paranoid defense classes, and me chipping in to a community effort." Bruce smiled, "There were people's lives at stake."

Gordon nodded in approval, turning as both watched the mad man being forced into a patrol car. Joker shot another, shiver-inducing glance Bruce's way.

Bruce's brown eyes narrowed.

But inside, his heart pounded loudly. That was the second time the menace forced himself on him. And if Bruce had any say in it, it would be the last time. 


	3. Fire under the table

A/N: A couple of YouTube vids of Batman/Joker pairing that are an interesting watch:

Batman/Joker - Ugly Like Me by Sammye89

Batman/Joker: "I Hate Everything About You" by Morramorgenst...

-o-o-o-

"I just saw the news." The english accent over the phone was filled with concern.

"Alfred," Bruce sighed in exasperation, "HOW are you going to enjoy your vacation if you keep watching that kind of stuff?"

"It seems the proverbial moth is drawn to the flame, no matter the form." Alfred speculated, worry and frustration coloring his tone.

"Lucky me..." Bruce muttered bitterly, knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone.

There was a silence that descended.

The ticking of the grandfather clock filled the hollow room, its grand splendor lost to the sole occupant. How could it have gotten so out of hand? Bruce wracked his brain. He shouldn't have opposed the Joker so strongly. Should've known it would catch his attention. But what was he supposed to do? LET the crazed man blow everyone up?

Bruce sighed, shaking his head as he consoled the old man, "Don't worry about me, Alfred. You know I could handle myself, even with the Joker."

"I know very well how that crazed lunatic can dig himself under your skin, Master Bruce." The butler replied, sighing as well, "But I shall let sleeping dogs lay, as the expression goes. Just BE careful."

"You know me, Alfred." Bruce chuckled.

"Yes, Master Bruce, I do." Alfred replied quietly, before hanging up.

Bruce exhaled loudly. He 'failed' to mention the Joker never made it to the police station. The patrol car had flipped over, the driver inexplicably stabbed with a pen through his skull, the other officer lacerated with knife wounds and held up in the intensive care unit. Feeling the familiar itch of wanting to don the suit and chase the maniac down, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and finished his whiskey in one shot. He needed a distraction.

And fast.

He picked up the phone again, calling the first number in his black book. It picked up within the first few rings, and Bruce jumped to it, suave playboy once more, "Hey, Angela. This is Bruce. Yea, that Bruce. How would you like to have dinner tonight?"

-o-o-o-

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Joker was bored. Again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The new hideout was the same as the others, his blue eyes roaming over the dusty rafters, the cobwebs in the forgotten corners, and the stained glass windows. There were so many forgotten crates in here.

347 crates, to be exact. And four of 'em were broken, seven were smashed inexplicably, and over two dozen were falling apart from rot and mildew.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was. Fucking. BORED.

Schlink.

He folded the butterfly knife with a snap of his wrist, staring absently at the small crater he had carved into the top of the crate with his incessant tapping.

Joker face-planted on the crate, groaning loudly.

Hell.

He missed his Bat.

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING, he did would make the Batman come back out. And it was seriously starting to mess with his head. He remembered the good old days. He would blow something up. Kill a few people. And the Bat would be RIGHT there. Now he was fucking lucky if he even HEARD the name at night. A few times his men had reported a sighting, and he had sped as fast as he could to the scene. Only to find fucking pretenders parading as HIS Bat. They had died slow, painful deaths under his caring blades.

Joker didn't even take the time to make elaborate plans anymore.

He had lost his drive.

It was just... too EASY.

The only reason he did anything anymore was to shut his goons up with their squawking. Rumors were flying around about the Joker losing his touch. He didn't deny or shed truth on anything. That was just it.

He. Didn't. Fuckin'. Care.

And it was starting to show.

He had to get outta there. He was going stir crazy. Maybe a night out in the town was just what he needed.

-o-o-o-

The champagne was fizzing. The ambience peaceful and refined. The soft lights showered perfectly on Angela's pale skin and blonde hair, the straightened strands twisted into an intricate bun, an ornate hairpin tucked inside. She rocked the body of a Victoria's Secret model, while holding herself elegantly. Her plump lips, accented in shimmering pink, moved as she spoke.

Everything should have been perfect. Only...

It wasn't.

Bruce, chin perched on a propped up arm, the other tucked suavely against his knee, was busy making it look like he was absorbing her words. Like they were the most interesting sounds he had ever heard. Only they weren't. Truth be told, he could not hear a damn thing she was saying. Her lips were flapping, her hands making graceful gestures, but Bruce could hardly focus. Not just on her. On *anything*.

He just kept hearing the Joker's laugh. Kept remembering the feel of the Joker's lips on his lips. Hands touching oh-so-familiar places. And it bothered him.

Intensely.

He shouldn't even be thinking about the crazed jester. He was done being Batman. Done sacrificing himself piece by piece to an ungrateful city. Done having to deal with... HIM. So why was it that he couldn't stop thinking about him? Why was it that he couldn't keep the Joker from creating chaos in the relative safety of his mind? His touch was like poison, tainting anything it came in contact with. And Bruce was infected.

All he needed was an antidote.

And he hoped perhaps kickstarting his love life might help. Not that he wanted to even BEGIN to consider why sleeping with a bunch of people would cure him of whatever mark the Joker had left. THAT was just not something he was ready to fathom, much less face just yet.

"-are still listening to me, right Bruce?" Her voice chimed through his thoughts, and Bruce blinked. He looked to be a man just surfacing from a deep plunge in murky waters, eyes blinking slowly before focusing on her face.

"Hmm? Of course," He cleared his throat. Smooth. Very smooth. Before adjusting his tie, as though it was a little too tight around his neck, "Uh... what were you saying?"

She huffed, loudly.

All right, so he was caught. He opened his mouth to apologize profusely, but she held up a single digit to silence him, "Excuse me a moment, I need to go powder my nose."

Bruce smirked as she stood. He should've known better than to think Angela was the type of girl to get upset over something like that. Not when money and fame were involved. He really needed to pick his friends better. Then again, she was not exactly a friend, per se.

"I'll... see you when you get back?" He called out after her, answering her departing smile as she slinked sensually away. It should have made him feel *something*, her dress open so low in the back, you could tell she wasn't even wearing any underwear. He looked down.

Nothing.

Not even a twinge.

A spark.

Oh hell, he was broken.

There was definitely *something* wrong with him.

Bruce groaned as if in pain, eyes scrunched as he leaned into his open palm, willing the bright lights and the whole room away. This was a mistake. A very bad idea. He should've just stayed home. Duct taped himself to the couch or something. This had to be the LONGEST date in the history of non-dates, and he was sure it had only began ten or twenty minutes ago.

He heard the chair scrape back across from him. Knew he should take his face out of his hand and open his eyes. Acknowledge her presence and at least ACT like the date was some semblance of having a good time.

Or tell her it was off.

Yea, that sounded better.

Then that voice filtered through, a raspy kind of amusement as the obviously male and NOT Angela's asked, "Heh eheh, rough night?"

Holy fuck.

Bruce's eyes flew open, taking in the the amused charcoal covered eyes, that red grin and slicked back green hair all at once. He had a slightly more than crazed look in his eye. But it turned to something feral as Joker leaned closer, azure orbs never leaving his as the clown's voice dropped a few notches, "I, erm, eheh, can *make* it ROUGHER."

That tone, that lustful gaze, it all shot straight down Batman's spine to his core. And this, more than anything, disturbed him the most.

Bruce's own chair immediately scraped back and he was partially out of his seat before a gloved hand clamped over his own, yanking it harshly back on the tabletop, keeping the billionaire half standing, but in place. Bruce felt his arm twitch, legs clenching. His typical Batman response was to fly over the table, tackle the man, and beat him to a bloody pulp, demanding WHY he couldn't just stay OUT of his life! He could do it. He didn't need the Kevlar. Years of intense training, getting himself beat up and pounding, likewise, on others, assured his ripped body was honed. A deadly weapon. But the Bruce visage stopped him. It was in that moment of hesitation that the Joker pounced, having already made his move moments before.

"Atatata tata," Joker admonished, clicking his tongue as something cold and cylindrical pressed against Bruce's kneecap under the hanging tablecloth, "No theatrics now. It's just you... and ME, Brucy. And unless you, erm, want me to pop one in your knee -which I, er, hear is *very* painful these days- and then another into your blonde bimbo, heh eheh, then I *suggest* you SIT. DOWN."

The last two words were snarled. Barely controlled screeched demands that were dressed as whispered words.

Bruce, still in a state of shock, complied. Slowly sitting down, eyes watching the Joker the whole time, Wayne found himself on the edge of his seat. How was it no one was noticing this? No one was screaming. Then he realized.

He had gotten the most secluded table in the whole place, potted shrubbery and fountains separating them from all the rest. That and, he noted with a furrowed frown, that the Joker's attire was the blacks and whites of a waiter, a large serving pan set on the other half of the table. Trickster. A fraction of him admired the ingenuity, before his inner Bat growled and pounded that inkling to oblivion.

"What are you doing HERE?" Bruce hissed, Batman lurking at the edges of his tone, his alter ego the reason he even found his voice so fast. Bruce Wayne's image would be a babbling incoherent idiot at that moment, and part of him warned that THAT was how he should be acting.

The transformation from stunned to angry pleased the Joker, however, as he murmured, "Closer."

Thrown off, Bruce gave a hard blink, "WHAT?"

Impatience crept into that nasal, lyrical tone as the Joker repeated more harshly, "I *said* scoot your chair CLOSER and I will answer all your questions."

It was a tactical disadvantage, the inner Bat noted. Even Bruce knew that, and he sat rigid for a moment, considering his choices. But the jester was watching him intently, hunched shoulders more tense, as though ready to spring into action at any moment. With a frustrated sigh, Bruce relented, using his free hand to grasp the bottom of the chair as he slid it closer back under the table. Though he was still sitting only halfway in the cushion, refusing to give that up.

Should have known the Joker would notice.

Green curls slid free, hanging along the edge of his painted face as he shook his head, "No no no no. Sit ALL the way back, like we're on a PROPER date."

"This is not a-" Bruce started to deny, voice rising.

"Atatata ta." The silencer tapped menacingly on his thigh, inky black sockets arching upwards under the Joker's painted brow.

Bruce froze, then grumbled, complying once more. But he was NOT happy about. Far from it. Batman was raging inside, caged and waiting to unleash hell's fury on the jester. But Bruce held the key tightly, fists clenching as he sat all the way until his rigid spine made contact with the back of the chair. He took small comfort in the fact that he still had the option of flipping the entire table, should he need to escape. Whether he could do it *before* the Joker shot him was another question entirely.

"Happy?" Bruce bit out, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

That evil pink tongue darted out to wet sinister lips, crimson grin smirking, "...Yes."

"Can we just get on with this," Bruce gestured in the air, "whatever THIS is? I have a date I need to get back to."

"You mean that yawn fest?" Joker cackled, noting the tension in Bruce's broad shoulders, "Oh, I noticed. Imagine my surprise, coming in the first restaurant I come across and snatching the perfect outfit, only to find little. Old. You. Hee Hee ahaw. I could barely contain my excitement."

Bruce's brow arched fiercely, "Try harder."

"Ooh I did, Brucy. I DID. I wanted to come over as soon as I saw and *rescue* you, buuuuut I waited... Waited for your blonde bimbo to leave, to give us some ALONE time. Heh eheh." Joker released Bruce's hand and watched, amused as Wayne yanked it away as though his touch had scalded the playboy's own. Nonplussed, he grabbed the skank's untouched glass and downed the contents. He gave a unsatisfied huff as he frowned, "Too fruity. I need something with, erm, a little more pizzazz. More of a kick to it."

"Then maybe you should get your OWN date. And kindly BUTT out of mine." Bruce's frown was deeper, his previously captured hand burning from the man's touch. He brought both under the table, wringing it as if to massage the trembling conflict from his assaulted digits.

"Atatata ta," Joker tsked, "Hands where I can see 'em Brucy boy." He waited patiently for the other to comply, smirking wider as the look on the man's pristine features CLEARLY stated he absolutely did NOT like how the Joker was ordering him around. Any other person, man or woman, would be shaking in their boots. Mob bosses, even the stubborn ones, would be showing a telltale sign of fear. But not Bruce. Oh no. He was ANYTHING but afraid. An unexpected fighter, in a world full of posers. And it warmed Joker's cold little heart to have uncovered this rare gem.

A keeper.

Bruce Wayne was definitely a keeper.

And it was chipping away the large void left in him by Batman's continued insistence on staying out of sight.

"Now apparently I'm gonna have to, er, SPELL things out more clearly for you since you're not getting the bigger picture," Joker licked his lips, delighting in the uncontrolled glare that followed the innocent gesture. Clearing his throat and straightening his stolen vest with a roll of his shoulders, Joker leaned in closer once more as he said slowly, "I am hijacking this date. It is O-FFICIALLY hijacked." He eagerly drank in the snort and narrowing of brown eyes as he continued, "So let's stop deluding ourselves in thinking of the past and that, erm, blonde thing you walked in here with."

Bruce Wayne's glare could melt what remained of the ozone layer, as he retorted in a voice colder than the arctic wind, "You seem to be doing a fine job in deluding yourself into thinking you can get away with this. My REAL date will be back any moment now, and I will KINDLY have to ask YOU to *LEAVE*."

"Ohoho Brucy boy, quite the optimistic, are we? This is the most fun I've had since our last meeting. WHY, erm, would *I*. LEAVE? Hmm?" Joker cackled, his whole body vibrating excitedly. It really was such FUN getting a rise out of the darker haired man. Created such tickling sensations in his gut when those eyes scorched his very soul, peeling back layer after layer of skin and bones. It reminded him sooooo much of his Bat. Thoughts of his missing other darkened his mood, and it showed as he turned to see the bimbo walking towards them. His voice laced with murder as he joked, "Speak of the devil..."

Bruce felt a jolt of fear for her wellbeing, turning as Angela came strutting back. Though her heels slowed hesitantly as she saw someone occupying her seat. Her beautiful face had creased, thinking at first it was another woman. But when she saw it was an odd man, his face painted as though a child had imagined the crude skull of a clown when he did it, her confusion etched clearly into her plucked brows.

"Bruce, what's going on here...?" She asked expectantly, "Who is this?"

"Yes, Brucy, tell her." Joker growled dangerously, all eyes flaying apart the bitch that had intruded in their evening together.

Wayne stumbled, not expecting her back so soon. In all truth, though he referenced her presence in their verbal sparring -something his inner Bat wanted to turn into a more viciously physical activity- he had completely forgotten she was there with him.

"A-Angela, this... is my old buddy from Harvard, stopping by on a social visit." Bruce stammered in the beginning, but quickly composed himself. All he could think of was how much danger she was in by being there. With him. He may not be the Bat anymore, but having another senseless death on his hands did not sit well with him.

"Date." Joker interjected, eyes still trained on the primp monkey before him.

Both Bruce and Angela spluttered, "Excuse me?"

"Date. We're on a DATE." Joker stressed, exasperated and turning to look at Bruce, promptly ignoring the skank's question altogether, "Can you please tell her-" Those maddened orbs outlined in coal shot back to said skank, "Can't you see we're BUSY here?"

"Ex-CUSE you?" Her pitch heightened.

"Yes, YOU are *excused*. Now run along and get breast implants or a nose job done and paid for by some OTHER billionaire... this one's taken. I call dibs." Joker's eyes gleamed, his grin twisted in place.

Her green affronted gaze shot towards the handsome bachelor, her voice wavering, "Bruce...?"

He could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"This is NOT what it looks like-" Bruce explained quickly.

He was not-

He couldn't be interested in-

Bruce Wayne was NOT gay. He had entertained the idea of bisexuality, but he was, under no circumstances, indefinitely, NOT gay.

...was he?

NO.

"This is EXACTLY what it looks like," Joker purred, hand suddenly back on top of his, snaking and intertwining over his knuckles and fingers, "Isn't it, Brucy darling?"

"Don't call me that." Bruce growled, attempting to pull his hand back. The heat of those gloved digits was too much. Warning flares lit up his nerves like so many alarm bells. This was the JOKER. And he was close. Too close. But the Joker's grip was like iron, as he well knew it would be, "And stop it."

"No you stop it," Joker crooned, tongue audibly smacking in his mouth, an annoying habit the man had, before his tone pitched dangerously low, "Before *someone* gets HURT."

Bruce Wayne noticed a few things in that moment. One, Angela hovered a few feet away, brows so high they dipped under her bangs, hidden from view. Two, he was dealing with a raging, murdering psychopath. Who was currently getting more malicious by the moment in Angela's presence. A subtle kind of maliciousness that he caught only because he knew him as Batman. A tick or twitch here, a sneer there. The growing stillness of the normally constantly wriggling maniac.

And thirdly, he no longer felt the cool barrel of the silencer on his knee.

"Uh, a Date!" Bruce said in a rush, knowing he only had moments, if that. The Joker arched a painted brow, glancing sideways at him as Bruce cleared his blocked throat, "He's, um, my date. I'm so sorry, Angela. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

The floodgates spilled open, tears cascading down her reddened cheeks, making her mascara run. She looked so unsure of herself then, "W-what are you saying, Bruce? You can't possibly be with this-this thing!"

Bruce glanced at the jester, but he was silent. Watching Bruce with a hawk-like intensity.

"I-Uh..." He snapped his gaze back to the trembling mess before him. This was for her own good. He pictured her in a pool of her own blood, the Joker cackling over her dead body. His resolve hardened, "Yes. I am."

He could practically hear the hummed approval from the man across from him. Feel it through the vibrations of the silencer focused back on his thigh.

"I see..." Angela choked, giving a hiccuped sob before abruptly turning and dashing away.

Bruce made to stand, but the Joker yanked him back down again, drawing a growl from the trapped billionaire.

"Now you see, that wasn't so hard to admit, was it?" Joker drawled, iron grip turned to caressing Wayne's hand, pleased. The jester added thoughtfully, "Though... I DO believe, erm, you're gonna have to cross off little miss Bimbo off your little black book. Maybe all of 'em, since it'll save you the trouble of having, heheh, ME do it for you. Not that I'm the possessive type, really. I just. Don't. Like. SHARING."

Bruce was shaking. Batman roaring to be uncaged. To rain hell on the maniac sitting across from him. But he stifled his rage, letting it seep out a crack as he bit out, "You monster..."

"Yes, but one who has a DATE with the eligible, handsome Bruce Wayne." The Joker preened, smug. He was in his own little world, loving the fact that he had managed to make the stubborn man say EXACTLY what he wanted to hear. THAT deserved a treat.

Bruce was taken aback at the compliment, glowering when the painted menace noticed.

"You DO forget, don't you Bruce. Just, heh heh, how HANDSOME you are..." Joker rolled the word around his tongue, making it sound absolutely sinful. He released the man's fist, expecting the jerked motion of the playboy snatching his hand back. But no matter. Joker reached for a cherry tomato on the salad on Bruce's side, "You gonna eat that?"

"I'm not hungry." Wayne snapped back, his brows so drawn down they were almost welded together.

"Well I..." Joker popped the delicious vegetable in his mouth with a loud smack, "AM."

He delighted in the startled gasp, the widened brown eyes, as the billionaire finally took note of the movement under the table, the barrel of the gun sliding sinfully along the inner seams of his thighs. Up and up to the most intimate of places. A full body shiver went through the groomed man's frozen countenance, disbelief spelled clearly in his features.

"Spread 'em, Brucy." Joker demanded eagerly, swallowing his tomato whole.

Bruce Wayne growled, clenching his thighs together. He would NOT play this sick man's games.

Joker frowned at that, stating, "You do NOT take direction real good, Brucy boy."

"Not from YOU." That snarl twisted those pert lips, sparking another hint of familiarity, making the Joker want to do dirty things to the man.

This defiance just would not DO.

"Ah Brucy, you see the problem with you is, erm, you don't think things all the way through. Eheh heh. You see... closing your legs like that aligns things oh so well, and gives monsters, heh, like ME, the opportunity to do THIS." Joker relished in the strangled sound Wayne made as he shoved the barrel forward and down, pressing heatedly into an unfortunately covered hole that Joker desperately wanted filled.

Bruce tried to sit up straight, cover his vulnerable area as he scooted away from the madman and his intrusive gun. But the Joker was one step ahead, foot hooked around the leg of Wayne's chair, literally dragging it forward into the table with a hard yank, forcing the suave man to lean back as he was pinned aggressively. The table biting his mid chest, his upper back curled back against the chair. Legs spread at the sudden motion.

And Joker's other hand dived under the table into the thick of it.

Bruce tried to close his legs once more, but the sadistic jester had gotten wise to his tricks. The pinstriped leg that had hooked the chair was currently blocking one leg with a well placed knee. The other foot was pinned by an unforgiving boot on Bruce's polished heel. The barrel remained at the more exposed opening, but the real trouble was that second hand, which found an interesting spot to rest.

Right. Between. Bruce's legs.

Where the Joker immediately busied himself with roughly exploring Bruce through his suit.

Bruce choked on a groan, hands gripping the edge of the table, head lolling back before he jerked it forward, "STOP. This..."

Grinning hungrily, Joker spread the man's legs open wider, "Erm... NO."

Bruce was attacked with the dual sensations. The barrel of the gun prodding his opening in time with the rubbing of the hand against a horrifyingly growing bulge in his pants.

"You seem to be enjoying this, Brucy..." Joker growled appreciatively, strengthening his motions, eyes tracing every twitch and barely audible moan from his unwilling partner. He continued conversationally, "So, heh heh, tell me about yourself..."

"You're-" Bruce choked, straining to get his body back under control, fighting the impulse to arch his hips upwards into that talented hand. Damn him. "-serious? I want -ha, shit!- you to, gah, STOP."

The reply was snorted in a sing song manner, "No you *don't*..."

"JOKER." Bruce growled, jaw clenched. Glare shooting daggers. A flush from more than anger staining his cheeks.

"Sheesh, so serious..." Joker drawled, drawing out a particular stroke, pressing the barrel deeper and enjoying the deep shudder that wracked the billionaire's body, "Tell you what... You tell me enough about yourself, and I'll stop tormenting you. Deal? Simple enough."

Bruce could barely think past the heated haze that diffused his brain. His limbs were tense, his spine curling in on itself at the overwhelming spikes of pleasure inflicted on him by the damn menace. His knuckles were white, clenching the table so hard it hurt. What the Joker was doing with his HAND... that gun... it was eliciting an unexpected reaction that wracked his whole body with an immeasurable amount of white hot electricity. Firing up every nerve. Turning his brain to mush.

Batman forced himself to focus. He needed this to stop.

And as much as he detested it, giving in to the demented demands looked like the only way out.

"What..." He bit his lip hard to keep the groan from spilling out, feeling a slight stinging sensation as he did so, "hah... Do you want... to -shit- to know?"

The bite, however, had drawn some blood. And Joker was riveted, like a shark in a small pool. Previous questions flew out the window. His main goal came back to haunt at him. Torment him. It was all fun and games with good 'ol Brucy. But Joker's heart, sadly enough, belonged to another. The one who had. Quit. PLAYING. Leaning forward, he hissed, "I WANT... to know where the Batman is."

Fuck.

Bruce's eyes clenched shut.

"I don't know! Gah, why would I... KNOW that?" Bruce growled, straining in his seat. The heat was unbearable. The fact that it was the JOKER made it all that more insane. The man was DOING things to him that he should NOT be. And his inner Bat was growling.

Fight back!

But how?

He gripped the edges of the table, ready to flip it over even if it was bolted into the ground. But then the Joker did *something* with his fingers and Batman's strength turned to jello. He cursed.

Loudly.

"Joker! Ngh, I don't know where he is!" Bruce grunted with the last of his failing strength, doing his best to glare at the man across the small table.

"Wrong answer!" Joker cackled darkly, speeding up the process. He loved to see this man squirm. He knew he probably couldn't answer his question.

But that was what he was hoping for. He wanted this. Wanted to make the playboy's toes curl. His blood boil. Wanted to be the face Bruce thought of on those dark lonely nights.

Wanted it almost as bad as he wanted to see Batman again.

Almost.

But that was pretty freakin' bad.

Seeing Bruce like this, trapped, flushed with unwanted desire, it was doing things to the Joker that he had previously believed only the Bat could inspire. He felt a tent straining in his own monkey suit, and snarled. Wanting nothing more than to shred BOTH their clothes off and fuck the billionaire like he's never been fucked before. And it would feel so GOOD. He could tell.

If just doing THIS was making his cock hard, the Joker could only IMAGINE what it would feel like skin on skin. Flesh pounding flesh. And Bruce would fight him. Oh. He would fight him EVERY. STEP.

It was obvious.

And it was making the Joker hotter than hell itself.

If he couldn't have his Bat, then he would drain the billionaire for every cum-filled drop he could. The Joker had a serious case of blue balls. All this running and being chased by the Batman, and the vigilante goes and ENDS it before they get to the juicy punchline? It was the one angle the Joker had believed too impossible to consider. He had had it planned out meticulously. Right to the tiniest fraction of possible outcomes. If the Bat fought, he would fight back. If he submitted, heh heh, well...

But the Bat wouldn't make it easy. Oh no, he had his MORALS after all. Ridiculous, silly and fragile things. But the Joker had relied on those flimsy things to keep the Bat coming back. To keep chasing him. Keep playing the game.

Apparently he had pushed too hard that night in the cell.

But Joker had been unable, and unwilling, to STOP himself. It would be like asking him to stop laughing. To stop breathing. The Bat pulsed heartily in his veins, and he craved to just see the man again. What would he be like under the mask? Horrifically disfigured? If he must be. The average Joe? He supposed.

Or perhaps he could be handsome like the quivering billionaire in his hands.

Yessss.

The Joker looked at the gorgeous creature trapped before him. He began imagining what it would be like if he was His Bat, instead of just the Wayne prodigy that had caught his eye. He cackled then.

Yes. He liked to play pretend...

Bruce twitched his gaze upwards at that mad cackle. He decidedly did NOT like the look deep in those inky black pools, the flash of blue having a more sinister gleam to them than usual.

Batman lurked in the background. Growling. WHAT was the Joker planning now...?

"Let's... play a game, shall we? Brucy?" Joker's voice was rough, his raspy tone filled with lust, eyes slanted.

"Don't, ngh, wanna..." Bruce heaved deeply, voice hitching as he could taste the lust rolling off the man in waves. The grip on his manhood had changed, becoming rougher and gentler at once.

"Aw, Brucy. You seem to be under the delusion that you have a CHOICE." The last word was snarled, the grip twisting a little on the poor billionaire's bulge, the barrel prodding more insistently against his covered entrance. Bruce couldn't fully hold back the moan at that one, spine arching slightly, legs jerking wider in an unconscious need for something deeper. Wayne tried to close his thighs immediately after, at least a fraction, but the Joker was never one to pass up an opportunity, and had reconfigured his knee and foot to keep the billionaire spread at this more accessible position. The Joker crooned, "THAT'S it Brucy boy, get a little more into it."

"Enough..." Bruce had meant for it to come out gruff, but the tone came out gasping.

"Oh no no, Brucy. We're too deep in the game now," Joker growled, not once pausing in his lustful movements under the table. His own manhood strained for attention, practically weeping at the thought of what he was imagining, but he let it be for now. Didn't want to break his new toy, did he? Needed SOMETHING to fill his time with the absence of the Bat. He licked his lips, letting a loose green curl hang before his darkened gaze, "Now, let us pretend, you are the Bat..."

Bruce was glad his eyes were clenched shut. Otherwise his look of surprise might have given him away.

"But I'm not-" Bruce started to deny.

"Oh shush shush shush," Joker cut him off, "I KNOW you're not. This is a game of pretend. You, heh heh, *really* need to brush up on your listening skills, Brucy. All that millions going to waste. Then again, I guess you PAY to listen to what professional quacks have to say. And me? I'm, eheh heh, doin' this for FREE."

Intensely relieved he had not been discovered, Bruce went on to growl, "I want my... gah, receipt."

"Ohoho, a real *comedian* are we...?" Joker trailed darkly, wetting his lips once more, "I think *I* can get you to do more than just *laugh*..."

Bruce let out a strangled gasp, thighs quivering from the forced onslaught, that hand doing wonders to his aching cock, even through the layers of fabric. He almost wondered what it would be like to be free of clothing, under the sheets with the-

But Batman put a stop to that thought with an inner snarl, slamming the door leading to it with resounding finality. HE may be trapped inside, but that did not mean he was gone. This was the Joker they were taking about. The Agent of Chaos himself.

What was Bruce THINKING?

The Joker truly was a poison tainting his veins. And Bruce was caught up in the fever of it all. Neither the chair, table, or the Joker himself planned on letting him go anytime soon.

"Now tell me," The Joker began, speaking as though asking which color drapes Bruce preferred, "Do you think Batman would like *this* more?" His fingers curled tightly around the straining bulge in Wayne's pants, before palming it roughly, "Or THIS?" Which was followed by the intrusive rocking of the cold barrel against his -oh thank god- covered hole.

Bruce whimpered, growling brokenly, "I... don't know. Ah!"

"Mmm, you're right. Probably both." Joker's painted face cracked into a grin, going back into his ministrations with greater fervor. It drew another strangled cry from the other, and the Joker relished in it. He had caught on, earlier, of how the billionaire had attempted to escape. Flipping the table over? Not quite brilliant. Desperate. But not smart.

It would have worked too, but thankfully when Joker worked his magic, it left the more muscled man weak in the knees.

And Joker was loving every minute of it.

The green haired menace leaned closer, as though divulging a secret, "Do you, eheh, do you *think* the Bat would prefer being fucked against the wall? Or maybe bent over that bat signal, so everyone can see our shadows as I fuck that tense ass? Hard."

Oh god.

Batman snarled and raged from his cage, but Bruce could not help but become harder at the imagery. The lean, runner's build of the Joker's form, forcing him over the cold metal hull of the bat signal. Fucking him. Bruce shuddered.

What was WRONG with him? The Joker shouldn't be affecting him this way. It should be dredging up some disgust. Maybe bile.

But Batman had become silent inside.

He could not deny the strange feelings the painted clown stirred inside of him. He just... used his rage to cover it all up. Put it away, tucked in some dark corner of his mind, never to be glanced at again. He couldn't afford to unravel the meaning of it. Too much was at stake. Too much.

"Hmm, that might be a draw as well." Joker hummed aloud, "So many choices, so many scenarios. Wouldn't be too bad bein' the one fucked up the ass either. Let's see..."

Batman balked.

Was THIS the reason the Joker had been so into the chase? Off of some perverse desire to screw or be screwed by Batman? He recalled the many times he had pinned the Joker against the wall. How often he straddled the maniac, restraining him using his full armored body. Could it be possible the Joker got off on that? That he never fought quite hard enough to get away because that was the outcome he *wanted*? A part of him recoiled at the thought. The insanity of it all.

But part of him stilled at it. His inner Bat couldn't seriously be... THINKING about it could he? Contemplating the possibilities? This was the JOKER.

No matter how good he was with his hands-

Wait, what?

Joker drank in the turmoil in the billionaire's face. Those sinful moans, quieted as they were, were like gulps of heaven to his ears. He imagined perhaps the Bat would sound like this. Would shakily give in because Joker skillfully sapped away his strength. By doing this.

He remembered that last night in the cell as though it were days, rather than weeks before. A cherished memory. The feel of the Bat's cock. The taste of his abject denial and utter surprise. The familiar hits of his rage at the Joker's advances.

The Bat spoiled him.

Never again would he be able to feel another cock, taste another man's mouth, without thinking of HIM. Not that he would have before that night. It had been an immediate shock the first time he had seen the Bat. All ebony darkness, danger, and rough, raspy snarls of rage.

The embodiment of Justice's fury. With wings.

And the Joker was enthralled.

He had been sentenced in Arkham with the Scarecrow, the night all hell had broken loose. Had watched, patiently in the dark, for his chance to strike. Take the device Scarecrow and his A'rah'ghoul pal or... whatever his name was, and use it for himself. Introduce himself to Gotham in all his glory.

The drug that had been pumped into the air, Crane's own mix of potent toxins, had no effect on the Joker. Rather, it seemed to ENHANCE his senses.

But then he had seen the Bat.

Embodiment of terror, gliding overhead above the alleys of Arkham. Untouchable. Unshakable. A true Prince of Darkness. He had wanted nothing more than to bring the Bat down. Shake him from his perch. Show him what civilization was TRULY made of. The Joker wasn't sure when that had changed. Or even HOW or WHY.

Perhaps it had been when he first started playing with the Bat. Rallied up the mobsters, killed a few pretenders. Rattled Gotham's cage. He had thought the game was up when he had the rocket launcher aimed at the police truck that carried Harvey Dent, the city's supposed 'unmasked' Batman. Man, had he been dis-A-ppointed. The Bat had given in so easily.

Only to be wondrously surprised when he caught sight of the Bat's ebony beast of a ride. The Tumbler was it? Streaking down the orange lights of the causeway tunnels behind the stolen semi.

Magnificent.

Perfect.

His Batman.

But his Bat had disappeared. And taken away a little piece of the Joker with him when he did. What little left of his soul had shriveled. Without the Dark Knight's presence, it just ebbed away. His original purpose was to be the Agent of Chaos. To go down, and make sure to take all of Gotham with him. But that had changed.

The Bat had changed that. Like he did everything his ebony cape whipped over. Like a cloud overhead. The winds had shifted.

Thugs, regular class and high class criminals, and mob bosses were all left shaking in their boots. Afraid of their own shadows. But Joker was affected differently. He WANTED the Bat to come after him. WANTED the chase. The thrill. With Batman there, he never felt... alone.

Bruce curled inward, his head bowing down with the intense, spiraling pleasure. Unaware of the Joker's own turmoil. He could only feel the heat winding tighter and tighter, ready to burst.

"Enough..." He rasped, voice strained, getting closer to his release, "Joker... that's *enough*..."

"Look at me, Bruce..." He could hear the trembling excitement in the tone across the table. Could feel just how much the Joker wanted this. Though Bruce could hardly account for why.

Bruce stubbornly shook his head. He couldn't give the man that satisfaction.

He wouldn't.

But the Joker wasn't taking no for an answer.

"LOOK. At. Me." He repeated. It was no longer a request.

But Bruce shook his head once more, sweaty bangs hanging free from his dipped head.

Joker, knowing he had only precious moments, switched tactics. He would not let the billionaire deny him this. His snarl was low, "Either you LOOK at me, or I will bend you over this table and FUCK you dry."

Bruce shot him a dirty look through his bangs, snarling back, "You can try."

At that smug grin, Bruce realized his mistake. But then it was too late. His eyes had locked with those pleased blues, and the black pits they were surrounded in swallowed him whole.

It was the Joker.

That was the message. That was what he wanted. For Bruce to acknowledge it was the Joker, and only the Joker, that was doing this to him. Bringing him to such heights just to make him swoon and plummet back down.

The movement under the table quickened, that hand and barrel working overtime, bringing Batman to the brink and shoving him over. At the edges of his mind, Bruce could make out the sound of cloth shredding beneath his death grip on the table. The hushed silence of the Joker. The strangled groan he clamped down on until it transformed into a prolonged grunt. The pleasure shot like wildfire through him. His back curled tighter, his heart stopped, and his vision peaked a glorious white. And all he could see were those eyes. Joker's eyes, memorizing every little detail as Bruce came, before Batman's eyes clenched shut, unable to remain open against the onslaught.

He came harder than he ever had before, the strong spurts contained within the confines of his boxers and pants suit. His hips arched of their own accord, encasing him more fully into that unrelenting, skillful grip. One which was merciless in milking every last drop. Bruce gasped, whole form tense and quivering with the rush of it. His hips jerked once, twice, jets of cum spilling out, before an eternity passed, and Bruce's body was able to drop back into his seat. Drained. That barrel pressed deeper in his covered hole, wrenching one last cry from his lips, his softening shaft twitching.

Joker was beyond amazed. Speechless. Which was new for him. His own cock was so hard it hurt. But he was content to just sit there, watching the trembling billionaire, chest heaving as though there was not enough air. Gathering himself after that mind shattering orgasm.

Joker's fingers twitched, just wanting to drag Brucy over to him and show him JUST how good the Joker could make him feel. Without all the cumbersome clothes in the way. But he clamped down on the urge, not used to stifling his instincts. But he had a feeling he wanted this particular billionaire to stick around. And in order to do that, he would have to take it slooow.

Oops.

Maybe he shoulda thought about that before pinning the man down and molesting him like he did. Then again, how could the Joker help himself? That's why Brucy went out with that skank, wasn't it? Though he hardly believed she could make Brucy feel a fraction of how the Joker made him feel just now.

"Heh eheh heh, some first date, huh?" Joker smiled, pulling away.

Bruce glared sluggishly up at him, inner Bat raging to get up. Tackle the maniac. Pound him for what he did. With... his fists, of course! But the connection between his brain and limbs seemed to be temporarily disabled. The most Bruce could do was halfheartedly attempt to rise, before slumping back down. Even his glare failed to be as fierce as he wanted it to be.

When he finally noted that the painted menace was leaving, instead of throwing insults, threats, or curses, what tumbled out of Bruce's mouth was an angry, "Where are you going?"

He could have kicked himself. Adding a, wait a second until I catch my breath so I could beat the living snot outta you, would've just made it worse rather than better.

"Aw, you missing me already, pretty boy? Don't worry. I'm not done with you yet. I just have a -er- small surprise meeting I've got to make with a, uh, Mr. Fleece, Geese, or some other. Then I will be back for you, Brucy. Count on it..." Joker gave a lighthearted smirk, tongue darting out to casually lick a wet glove, before wiggling his fingers in farewell, "Ta ta, lover boy."

Joker was gone in a swirl of black and white before Bruce could finish snarling in a rush, "I am NOT your lo-"

But then his gut plummeted, the strangely euphoric feeling from moments ago vanishing. The fact that the Joker butchered the name didn't deter Bruce's mind from clicking it into place.

What Joker wanted to know. How fast he slipped out of there. The name.

Coleman Reese.

The one man outside of Batman's trusted circle of Alfred Pennyworth and Lucius Fox, who knew his true identity.

And the Joker was galavanting out to MEET with him.


	4. No air

A/N: Reviewers, you rock. Even if it's a word or two, pointing out parts you like, or constructive criticism, every bit made me grin. Thanks for the interest in the story guys.

As for the vid shout out, how could I not? YouTube vids always inspire me, especially if they're well done.

-o-o-o-

Bruce rushed into the penthouse, sweat dried on his skin from earlier and from his rushed drive over.

He couldn't let Joker find out.

Couldn't!

Once he figured a way to get Reese safe and out of the way, he could leave Gotham. Indefinitely. This... thing. Whatever it was. With the Joker?

It had to stop.

And the only way that could happen was if he distanced himself from the man.

But he has to ensure Joker would NEVER find out first.

The emergency lights flickered on in his hidden room, the cowl and suit staring at him mockingly. It demanded things from him. Answers, just like that painted face.

Could he really leave all this behind? The suit? The city? Joker?

Bruce Wayne stilled, hand hovering inches from the Kevlar plates, titanium-dipped tri-weave fibers winking up at him. He was justice incarnate in this form. Exacting vengeance on the corrupt city. Saving the innocents. Doing what was right. But the city was safer now. He had even noticed Joker's steady decline from chaos. When he left, the Gotham PD would be more than capable of handling the crippled shadows of crime.

Batman had sacrificed enough.

BRUCE had done enough.

This would be the last time he donned the suit.

But he couldn't help feeling an echoing laughter at the back of his skull. The Joker's laugh. Even the cowl seemed to be grinning up at him, glad to not have been forgotten.

Bruce's fingers twitched back. Before he growled at himself. What was he afraid of? This was HIS choice. HE was Batman, not the other way around. And once this mess was dealt with, he would be DONE. For good.

With a wordless snarl, he ripped the suit from its casing, and hastily dressed.

-o-o-o-

Coleman Reese was a stupid, stupid man.

"You know, for a lawyer, you're uhhh, NOT very smart." Joker stated pensively, crimson grin tilting in a smirk.

With a receding hairline, in his late thirties, and definitively NOT getting paid enough to deal with this crazed lunatic, the mouse of a man spurted once more, "What do you want from me?"

Coleman Reese hung from the broken window, dangling thirty stories in the air from his M&A Consulting Agency firm, the only thing keeping him from his death being a flimsy piece of string tied to the leg of the office chair Joker currently sat on. Frustrated that he had to deal with this pathetic, spineless coward of a man, Joker hunched forward on his seat, elbows on knees as he steeples his fingers vexingly, "For the LAST time, Reese, it's simple. Heh eheh, really it is. Just a small thing. Two words really. Here's what I want: I WANT. THAT. NAME."

Reese's grey pupils widened, "I-I can't! I'm sorry!"

Lucius had really made an impression on him the last time he and Reese had spoken. Bruce Wayne had made it a habit of beating criminals to a pulp, dressed as the Batman. Night after night. The man had EVERYTHING and he chose to spend his spare time fighting crime. Viciously. As far as he was concerned, Bruce was just as crazy as the painted man before him. Except he had money, power, and connections on his side. It wasn't just his life Bruce could threaten, it was his very livelihood.

As afraid as Coleman was, he couldn't give the name. After everything, Bruce had SAVED him! Who knew what the billionaire turned Batman would do if he gave away his identity.

"I-" Coleman started to stutter.

But then the opposite window broke in a rain of shards. Heavy boots landed, and without turning Joker heard the one voice he wanted to hear more than anything else in the WORLD.

"Let him go, Joker." That wondrous raspy, gravel of a voice made Joker's heart stop.

The whispering rustle of the cloak getting closer. The intimate squeak of Kevlar and rubber. He could taste it in the air. His skin crawled with a growing excitement. Joker could hardly believe it. After weeks of plans. Scheming. To bring the Bat to him and suddenly, without even trying...

Without even planning...

Here he was.

Joker was ramrod straight in his chair. Almost afraid to turn his head for fear the apparition behind him might vanish.

But slowly, ever so slowly, he did. And the sight of the towering dark figure did not disappoint. It wasn't the fake washouts, the damned pretenders. No... THIS Bat held himself with a menacing air. Those broad shoulders and gleaming Kevlar. That familiar grimace.

THERE was *a* Batman. In all his scowling glory.

For the first time, Bruce heard the Joker's voice tremble, a mixture of hope and despair in that tone, "Bat...man...?"

Batman was struck. He knew his disappearance would frustrate the man, but Joker had the look of a man starved. Pushed to the brink of dehydration, and he was taking his fill. Right now. Of Batman's dark presence.

"You're, heh heh, back...?" Joker asked softly, hand reaching out, wanting so bad to touch the Bat, but afraid he would vanish once more.

The next words from those lips, pressed into a tight line, dealt a blow more devastating than any punch the vigilante could land, "I'm not staying."

That knocked the breath out of the Joker. And what filled the vacuum was a venomous snarl, Joker standing abruptly as he cut off Batman's growled explanation of "I'm only here to-" as the Joker raged, "What? To save this pathetic piece of-"

But several things happened at once. Batman jerked back at the complete shift in the jester's demeanor. A scream filled the air. And Batman was diving to the broken window, past a frozen Joker, grappling hook whizzing out even as the falling man continued to scream his head off.

"Oops." Joker shrugged.

He hadn't meant to. *Really* he hadn't. But the Bat had a way of drowning everything else out of the picture. But what did it matter if Reese died. Joker had the Bat now, and he was NOT letting him out of his sight.

Bruce grunted as the hook caught, slamming Batman into the wall as he took the brunt of Reese's momentum. He took a second to catch his breath, grabbing a nearby shelf to keep from plummeting over the edge as Reese had. His heel dug into the thin carpet, his shoulder screaming loud in protest. Almost as loud as the dangling man below.

"Aaahhh Aahhh AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Well, maybe not nearly as loudly.

Batman flinched as the Joker suddenly popped up beside him, cackling.

"Joker..." The sound from the masked man's lips was divine. Guttural, and with the right twist of danger and anger. Even with his struggling countenance not to topple out the window after the bumbling idiot. The Bat was stretched between one arm to the other, back digging painfully against the edge of the wall, the kiss of death millimeters from the edge of his boot.

"I can see you're, er, *busy* right now, what with hanging on for dear life and all, but I would looove a moment of your time to chat, dear Batsy." Joker was all giddy smiles and cackles. He couldn't have planned it better himself. It was almost as if fate had served the Bat to him on a silver platter. And Joker just shivered in anticipation of his one on one time with the vigilante.

Eyeing the Joker, but content in the fact that he wasn't gonna pull anything for the moment, Bruce tightened his grip on the cord, grunting, "Do I have a choice?"

"No." Joker grinned gleefully.

The Bat was back. The Bat was back! Here with him. The night had never seemed so beautiful.

"C-can you pull me up now?" A frightened voice wailed from below.

"Shut up!" Joker screeched. This was HIS time with the Bats. Batman looked surprised at his outburst, but Joker just shrugged, edging closer as he pouted and whined, "It. Has. Been. FOREVER. You never call, Batsy. Or stop by to play one of my, erm, games. You know I make 'em jus' for you, Batsy."

He could almost imagine the Joker stomping his own foot on the ground like a petulant child that wasn't getting his way. Batman arched a brow, leaning back a little as the jester invaded his bubble. Batman LIKED his bubble. And suddenly, more and more, it was feeling like going on this whole outing to stop Reese from spilling the beans was... not such a good idea.

"I...uh..." Batman couldn't lean back any farther, his voice colored with discomfort. What was he supposed to do, let go of Reese so he could get away from the mad man? The way those coal-lined eyes travelled over him was unnerving to say the least. He had the sneaking suspicion that the jester was undressing him in his mind, and he shivered, before growling, "Back off, Joker."

But the Joker's lingering gaze turned to a frown, ignoring Batman's words to demand, "How... didja find me, Batsy? Not that I'm not, erm, pleased and thrilled. But, I didn't even leave any clues... any presents... nothing. So how...?"

The slight widening of those hard brown eyes gave the Bat away. It only lasted a moment. But it was too late.

He.

Had.

Slipped!

Oooh, heh eheh heh. This was getting IN-ter-esting. Joker decided to rest against the man's side in deep thought, body against Kevlar enshrouded body, earning a guttural growl from the Dark Knight. That broad chest tensed, muscles constricting. Wanting to get away from the Joker, most likely. But there was *nothing* Bats could do about it. Unless, of course, he was willing to just LET Reese fall to his death. Joker tapped his own painted chin, humming as his sharp mind worked rapidly, "Hmmmm, *let's* see... just HOW did the big bad Batman end up in, heh heh, MY neck of the woods...?"

Batman grimaced. It wouldn't take much. A lunatic Joker may be, but he was anything but an IDIOT. As far as he knew, there was only one person Joker had let slip as to where he was heading that night. One person he had tortured. Forced to play his sick game. A moral, physical torture that tainted Batman's mind. Plaguing him with the memories of it. He should have prevented what went down in the restaurant. But he had been Bruce Wayne then. He couldn't do what Batman would've done.

Though his mind sneered, couldn't... or WOULDN'T.

The moment those blue eyes lit up, Batman knew he was doomed.

"Bruuuuucy... heh eheh heh, I knew it. That nice piece of ass DOES have connections..." Joker purred triumphantly.

"You leave him out of this, Joker." Batman rumbled a warning, his rising panic threatening to show through hardened features. It already showed through his second slip of the night.

Hell.

Why not paint a target on his back while he was at it?

The Joker did nothing if not go against what Batman, or anyone else for that matter, said.

"Oooh, hit a SORE spot have I? Is dear Brucy a *friend*?" That last word had those darkened pits narrowing. The billionaire was fun and all, but if he was more important to the Bats than Joker, well heh heh, it pretty much spoke for itself...

"I have no friends." Batman rumbled deeply, trying hard to ignore the fact that the muscled warmth of the Joker was leaning nonchalantly on his side, the heat of that purple jacket seeping through his cold Kevlar plates. The tangled mop of green hair brushed his open mask, and his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he attempted NOT to inhale the scent of gasoline and CHAOS that was *purely* Joker.

His answer seemed to perk the jester's souring mood. He cackled, turning slightly to brush a gloved hand against Batman's armored torso, eliciting a deep growl as he tsked, "Aaw Bats. Don't worry your scowling, pointy eared head. You have ME."

"Stop," Batman paused to grunt, starting to feel the ache in his stretched arms from the man hanging outside, "trying to make me feel better."

"Oh Batsy," The Joker was fully turned around now, pressing his front into that of the Batman's armored front, gleefully drinking in the growing alarm and tenseness of the silent man before him, "but that's what I LIVE for."

Batman shot him a glare that defied Joker's simple reasoning.

-o-o-o-

Maroni had said if he watched Coleman Reese long enough, he'd figure something important out. It had been at least a month now, and Lucas, one of the Falconi syndicate lackeys, had been bored out of his mind. He was CONVINCED Reese was lying through his teeth when he said he knew who the Bat was.

And wham, outta nowhere the Joker shows up. Lucas Monticristo had nearly pissed his pants, sure the loon knew he was there, lurking behind the cracked open office door.

But nothin' happened. He was still in one piece.

Then the BAT shows up and Lucas fought long and hard not to run down the stairs, tail between his legs. But the two were so absorbed in each other, strangely NOT beating each other to a pulp, that they never even knew he was there.

Lucas was a mop of brown hair and stick-like figure. A kicked mutt in the world of mobsters. And he was eager to gain a foothold in the Falcone syndicate. Just imagine what killing the Joker AND Batman would do to his reputation. It made the man salivate, even as he pulled his .45 caliber out of his expensive pants suit.

He had to time this carefully. Do it right. Had to take out the Joker first, since the loon had the most freedom right then. Then the Bat would be easy pickins. Like shooting fish outta a barrel.

Wetting suddenly dry lips, the reedy man stepped closer to the door, gun at ready.

-o-o-o-

Batman's hand trembled on the shelf, expensive oak groaning warningly at his clenched hold. That, and his well-placed footing were the only things keeping him from falling into the darkness. Though he was seriously considering it as the Joker continued to take his liberties, pressed against him as he was, inhaling Batman's scent.

"Hmmm," Joker hummed happily, "Kevlar, sweat, and a hint of spice."

"Better than gasoline and chaos," Bruce rumbled, gaze narrowing since he had never meant to let the words slip. But the Joker was getting to him. This closeness. Acting like leaving him was like leaving the jester with no AIR. It made no sense. How could his mere presence affect the clown so? Didn't Joker realize he was only there to STOP him? To save everyone else from his mad schemes?

But Joker lit up deviously, "You *noticed*! How sweet..."

Batman's gaze narrowed further. What could he do to get through to this man? Should he disregard his One Rule and get rid of the Joker? Wouldn't the world be a better place?

Would it really?

"You-" Batman started to growl.

But honed senses caught movement at the corner of his eye. Everything streamed to him in flashes.

The door!

Stupid, he forgot to mind his-

The flash of a gun in the moon light. A shaky gloved hand steadying it. Aiming at them. No, not them. Aimed at the Joker.

Batman reacted without thinking. Without hesitation.

He released his one grip on the shelf, grabbing the surprised jester by the collar and tossing him safely to the side. Batman didn't have time to register the look of hurt confusion on the man's painted face before he leaned sideways on his heels, gravity clawing at him towards the ledge. The movement saved his life as a bullet struck the wall just millimeters from his torso. But it also cost him his footing.

Hypersensitive hearing ringing from the unexpected shot, Batman felt gravity grip him triumphantly, jerking him over the edge into the abyss, even as he heard a frantic "BATS!" sound from the ledge. He shot one last glance behind him, eyes widening at the wicked shifting of events, before he was caressed by the wind of a thirty story plummet.

Even as he stretched his cape, the electric current stiffening the fabric as he activated it with the flaring of his fingers, even as it failed because of the weight of the doomed man yards below him, even as he spun and careened out of control, Batman couldn't shake the image out of his head.

The Joker had been half-crouched, half-standing, hand outstretched as though to save him. Mouth forlorn, without the hidden smirk that always played below the paint. But what got to him the most was the look in his wide blue eyes. The look of fear. The look of losing what you hold most dear, right before your eyes. Bruce Wayne knew that look.

Batman knew that look.

And it was not something a man like the Joker should ever be capable of having on his face. Especially for Batman.

His descent slowed, but not enough. He heard the sick smack of something hitting the pavement. With a twisted irony, it registered that Reese was dead. And he would soon follow.

And for some odd reason... he had SAVED the Joker.

He felt a flare of immense pain. A sound of a crash. Then darkness.

-o-o-o-

Joker rushed over to the ledge, barely stopping himself as he made to throw himself out after. As though he could fly. What was his life without the Bats?

He ignored the sharp sting of broken glass on his knees and palm, one hand gripping the wall as he leaned out. It was over in moments. The red splotch of one body on the pavement, the unmoving form of another on the collapsed roof of a truck. It was too far down to make out which body was the Dark Knight's. Joker growled in frustration.

What was his life without the Bat?

He took a moment to draw his gaze up the wall he clenched onto, death like. To brush over the bullet hole. Meant for him, he was sure. That had been where HIS head was at. The Bats had shoved him out of the way. Had fallen instead of letting Joker die.

What. Was. His. Life...

Sluggish brain slowly making the connections through the thickening haze of rage, Joker turned his head ever. So. Slowly. Following the direction the shot had been fired from.

...Without. The. BATS?

His cold icy gaze fell on the trembling mess that was Lucas Monticristo. Joker knew a mobster when he saw one, and this pale shadow of a man, smoking barrel still in hand, *definitely* was one. He reeked of Maloni and cowardly force. Exuded money like a bad stench.

And HE... he had taken away the one good thing in his life.

It used to be murder. Mayhem. Chaos.

Before the Batman strolled in his life, those things were enough. Those things brought him joy. Made him smile. But after...

Well, EVERYTHING paled in comparison to the Dark Knight.

Bats had been his other half. The immovable object to his unstoppable force.

Joker didn't notice the shaking that consumed his whole body. The pure, unfiltered rage that hunched his shoulders and tore a mangy snarl from his scarred lips. He looked like a rabid dog. Hair tangled, eyes crazed. Saliva dripping thread-like from the side of his parted maw. His teeth flashed in the darkened room.

He didn't notice these things, but the unfortunate Lucas did.

And the man quickly aimed his gun, firing shot after shot as the crazed man tore after him on all fours, the jester hunched over even as he rose to his feet. Lucas didn't know if any of the bullets hit, but it didn't matter. Nothing could stop the Joker now. He read his slow, torturous death in those hollowed eyes.

-o-o-o-

Batman came to slowly. Everything ached. From his bones, to his nerve endings, to his very cells. But that didn't change the fact that he was...

Very much alive.

And it hurt like hell.

Batman stifled the low groan that wanted to rumble out, his alert gaze taking stock of his surroundings. The crisp smell of disinfectant. The firm, uncaring sheets of the thin mattress beneath him. The clank of a metal handcuff to the bedside railing.

A slow panic settled in his gut.

Was he in Arkham?

But no, he noticed the pristine, bland whiteness of the room even as it registered. The bleep of monitors, the buzzed overlap of the paging system out in the corridor. The humming of the television set adjacent to his bed.

Hospital.

Then he noted the silent man a few feet away, hands held behind his back as he gazed out the window.

Batman, assured that his Kevlar and cowl were still on, rumbled in a tone like he had chewed dry gravel, "...Gordon..."

The man turned slowly, surprised. He looked a little worse for wear, haggard as always. But a small smirk graced his spectacled features, "You... continue to impress me, Batman. You only got checked in just a few hours ago. A lesser man would be out for days, especially after a fall from that height."

Batman just stared, questions in his dark gaze.

"You're in Gotham East. It's three in the morning. My men... are still cleaning up the mess in the consulting agency tower. It's a blood bath over there. The coroner could just barely I.D. the bodies. Coleman Reese and a mobster by the name of Lucas Monticristo. Though the latter had the be scraped off the walls. I'm not sure I even want to KNOW what happened." The Commissioner rubbed a hand wearily on the back of his neck. He looked like a racket of questions were jumbled in his own head, but when he spoke next, it was almost hushed, "Where... have you been?"

"I..." Batman's voice faltered. He hadn't realized...

With his sudden decision, he never really remembered to mention ANYthing to the Commissioner. He had been so focused on staying the hell outta the Joker's scope, he had failed to look elsewhere.

"You never dropped by. Never mentioned... are you... *finished*, Batman?" Gordon hesitated, feeling as if he shouldn't be demanding an answer to such a question. It wasn't as if this was a job position sanctioned by the state. Or that Batman even *had* to do the things he did. Risking his life, sometimes even his soul, on a quest to save the city's own. But damn it, Gordon had a right to be in the know. He may not be the symbol Batman was, he was just one ordinary man, but he risked his life and soul as well right alongside him.

"Isn't this what you wanted, Gordon?" But Batman's growl was subdued, his eyes flickering pointedly on the floor.

"You know damn well-" Gordon turned, sighing in frustration. He composed himself before turning, "Look, the Joker may have calmed his antics for a while. But there are rumors. The Joker's gone soft. Crime is at an all time low. But the Syndicate is on the rise again and we- *I* need you Batman. If only for a moment longer."

Batman was silent in the face of that admittance. Gordon was a hard man to crack. Not quite prideful. More the type to do what needed to be done because he had to. 'Cause it was the right thing to do. Just like Batman. And if he felt like he needed to come right out and SAY it, well...

He must fear the worst.

"Gordon..." Batman started to rumble. But he didn't know what to even *begin* to say. A simple 'I'm sorry' didn't quite cut it. Wasn't what Gordon deserved.

"I know you had your reasons, Batman. And this isn't some goddamn confessional. I'm not even saying you have to come back. I just..." Gordon wavered, taking his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose, as if to rub the grooves from their indentations. He sighed loudly, placing them back on as he finished, "I just would like a little bit of help. I can't wrap up the Falcone Syndicate without you."

A tumble of emotions flit through Batman's mind, the foremost being guilt, though none showed through his hardened features, Batman scowl fixed tightly in place. Tighter than his own cowl. He had devoted so much to this city. His father had as well. Was it fair to just let it all go because of one stubborn maniac? If it was just his life on the line, Bruce would have no qualms about facing the Joker. But there was more at stake. His sanity, among other things. Other things his mind did not want to dwell on. Was it fair to the city? To Gordon? All of who counted of him.

His jaw set.

Was it fair to Bruce Wayne?

"Gordon-" Batman started to mutter.

But the Commissioner held up a hand, halting the vigilante's reply, "Please, don't answer right away, Batman. Just-just do me a favor. Think about it first."

Batman paused, turned to look at his hand and rattled the cuffs, turning his gaze back to the older man, "A little difficult to do some thinking in jail, Gordon..."

"Already handled. Look under the mattress. Left a surprise. I'll clear the immediate vicinity of the doctors that are supposed to check up on you. You'll have a twenty minute window." Gordon managed a grin amidst the cough he used to cover his briefly spoken sentences. There were a lot of regulations he broke for the Batman, but only the Bat. Considering everything the vigilante did in return, well, it was the least he could do.

"Thanks, but I barely need ten." Batman grunted in appreciation.

"Overachiever." Gordon snorted, heading out the door, "You know with me, there's no need. I'm already impressed."

"I'm not. And Gordon?" Batman waited for the man to stop by the door, hand on the handle as he cocked his head to listen, "I'll... think about it. For you."

The smile that stretched the older man's face was genuine, "That's all I ask."

Then the door shut and Batman was alone to mull over his thoughts. How he wished he could call Alfred then and there. He was sure the Butler would have some sound, knowing advice to give him. Always had. Always would, too.

There were repercussions to every decision. And he had not even given it any thought since that night in the cell. Joker always tended to shorten his fuse. Make him act and react without thinking. It was a dangerous thing, especially with the power of the Batsuit at his fingertips.

It couldn't hurt, could it?

To be Batman for a little while longer. Help Gordon out with his mobster problem. Hope to dear god he didn't run into the Joker again.

Right.

Fight the mob, avoid the cops AND an obsessed clown during Gotham's dark nights?

Batman sighed wearily, head falling back on his too flat pillow, the smell of too many unscented washes clinging to the covers. He may not want to do this, but he HAD to. Because it truly was the RIGHT thing to do, as he could hear Alfred's English accent drifting in his thoughts.

Oh how he hated his life. Hated how he was raised, taught to do the moral thing.

With a grimace, Batman shifted on the bed. Might as well get this over with and escape. Not that he couldn't have done so without Gordon's help. It just made things... easier. A path Batman was completely unused to treading. He already knew where his first stop would be once he got out. Wayne Enterprises. He needed to meet a certain man about certain adjustments he needed done to the suit. If he was gonna make it a habit to go jumping off buildings with extra bodies, he needed the cape to be able to handle the surplus weight.

He had just started to reach under the mattress with his unhindered hand, when the door swung open. Yanking upright, he watched the nurse with narrowed eyes. A slender thing with a bounce of red and orange hair, she hadn't even acknowledged him when she went in. Hadn't even *looked* at him. And it was this, more than anything else, that had him on edge.

He thought Gordon...

He continued eyeing her, noticing she had strangely thick and muscular calves for a woman. Her legs weren't even shaved, the hairs obvious even from a few feet away. Her white, ironed dress had a belt that tapered well to her narrowed waist, the hem brushing just above the back of her knees.

Still eyeing the stranger and whatever it was she was doing at the small countertop, Batman resumed fishing underneath the mattress, torso twisted since the free hand was the one closest to the wall. There was something about the silent nurse, that tugged at his consciousness. A familiarity that snagged his nerves, a strange shiver traveling down his spine. But he ignored it in favor of his current search. If she chose to ignore him, it worked all the better for him. His brow furrowed as his gloved fingers made no contact with the key to his cuffs. Gordon had said-

A familiar chuckle slid like ice down his spine, attention jerked fully to the stranger with her back turned to him. Her arm was outstretched, the light of predawn glinting on a small metallic object dangling from her gloved hands.

Except it wasn't a 'her'.

And the object was a glimmering key.


	5. Things that scare us

A/N: Lol, you guys are insanely awesome. I'm crankin' out the updates cuz I'm actually trying to *finish* a fanfic for a change. Surprise surprise. I find that if I stop, my muse tends to drift to the next story. Let's hope that's not the case, shall we?

Oh, and did I ever mention reviews feed the ravenous muse? She really is somethin'.

Who woulda thunk that nurse was really the Joker? Hah.

More YouTube vids that are pretty kool:

Joker/Bruce - Monster by Aidelim  
>Batman And Joker - Animal I Have Become by Centperk<p>

-o-o-o-

"Looking... for something...?" That familiar cackle.

"*Joker*." Batman growled, an uneasiness settling in his gut. How had he FOUND him? Why was he HERE?

And more importantly, how had he gotten a hold of that KEY?

Joker turned fully around, laughing outright as he pulled down the surgical mask that covered his painted face. He hooted, "I wondered if you, heh eheh, would *notice*."

Batman growled.

Joker spun in place, fingers daintily holding the hem of his nurse outfit, "You like the new threads? Comes handy in, er, fitting in. Though... I can't really say I approve of the new digs. Bo-ring. Not to mention too many needy people, sheesh. And the atmosphere needs some work. I bet um..." Joker looked pointedly out the door before a slow grin creased his face paint a little more, looking at the Bat through dangling locks, "*I* could liven the place up a little."

When all Batman did was glower at him, Joker lightened up from his murderous mood to give a glamorous wink, "I wore it today JUST for you."

At the stressed word, the clown had lifted his skirt just that much higher, flashing his bare upper thighs. Batman's eyes widened before he tore his gaze elsewhere, keeping the green haired menace in his peripherals. Joker brought scandalous to a whole different level. Not to mention, he did pull of the nurse uniform very well for a... uh... deranged psychopath.

Something Batman would *never* say aloud as long as he lived.

"Stop doing me favors." Batman's tone dipped low, brooking no room for argument.

Why couldn't the mad man just leave him the hell alone?

Though he was pleased to FINALLY get the Bat to use his scratched vocal chords, Joker pouted, prowling forward as he stated, "Well you're no fun, Batsy."

He started a little hop and skip, twirling the small keychain around his finger, closing the gap between them.

Seeing the crazed clown creep closer had the Dark Knight's hair on edge, and he quickly jerked to a standing position, though his movements were severely limited by the tug of handcuffs on his right wrist. He couldn't move much further than a step or two from the bed, pulling his chained wrist behind him, as though that would hide the fact that he was practically immobile.

Of course, heaving the whole bed across the room seemed a pretty good possibility. A smashed Joker couldn't really do anything to him. Then again, it being the Joker, he would *still* find a way to push his buttons, even as a puddle of skin and bones on the floor.

"Give me the key, Joker..." Batman rumbled, Kevlar glinting darkly in the white-washed room.

Joker held it out enticingly, cackling when he jerked it out of reach at the Bat's fast swipe. The painted jester grinned, "Mmmm no."

"Give it to me." The Dark Knight repeated gratingly, holding out an upturned palm.

"I cooouuuuld, but... I won't. Heh eheh heh heh." Joker thrilled at the whole predicament, even as the Bat gave a fiercer scowl. Imagine the clown's surprise after he had delivered an agonizingly slow death to Bat's supposed murderer, only to glance out the window and see an ambulance pulling up alongside the corpses. But ONE of the corpses had been breathing. The one that landed on the vehicle.

The one he was *very* glad to see alive before him.

He had to hold back his excitement at just blowing the whole damn hospital up and taking the Bat away. He may have been actually HURT after all. And Joker may like to dress the part, but he was no true nurse. Sure he could patch up a bloody wound, take out a bullet or two. But he wasn't a doc. At least, not THAT kind. He had to make sure his Bats was golden.

And how could he even doubt.

A thirty story drop would kill any normal man.

But since when did his Bats ever fall in THAT sort of crowd?

The fall barely shook the muscled vigilante, the Bat looking none the worse for wear, minus a few scrapes and bruises. A particular scratch on Batsy's lip had his eyes riveted, mind niggling in familiarity. But he let it pass for the desire to taste the blood on *his* Bat's lips. The dried red mocked him, taunting him, and he licked his own lips.

He just wanted a taste.

Surely he deserved it after all the weeks of inattention.

When the Joker stepped closer, too close, Batman snarled, forcing his body to be still. As much as he wanted to flee, as much as his blood rushed at the thought of the Joker touching him, he would show no weakness. Not in front of THIS man.

"Come any closer and I WILL beat you senseless." Batman uttered warningly, eyes burning. Free fist clenching, even as he yanked at the handcuffs, attempting to match the Joker's step for measured step. He wouldn't back down. No matter how the panic rattled in his sore ribcage.

"I thought, heh heh, you wanted THIS." Joker dangled the key just achingly out of reach, loving how that brown gaze melted the piece of metal at his fingertips. But the Bat knew better than to grab for it again.

He was fast.

But Joker was *faster*.

"I do." Batman turned his gaze to the clown, anger churning in those brown depths.

But the move Joker pulled had even Batman in a loop.

The silver key dangled, then disappeared promptly in that scarred mouth.

Inner Bruce and Batman together were speechless.

"Come and get it..." Joker grinned, enjoying the blinked look of surprise and utter disbelief in the Bat's eyes, before he snickered, "unless you're too, er, *scared* of course-"

The Batman raged at the word. He would show the Joker. Before Bruce could clamp down on his impulsiveness, Batman had hooked the Joker around the small of his back, dragging the fighting form of the clown bodily to him. The painted menace had just enough time to expel a breath of forced air at the yanked contact of uniformed clothe against hardened Kevlar, before a strong mouth claimed his, muscled tongue easily prying past his frozen, scarred lips. He was so taken aback at the sudden, and definitely unexpected, reaction, that it was no trouble at all for the Bats to fish the key from between Joker's lax tongue and tonsils.

Snagging the bitter rust of metal, trying his damnedest NOT to relish in the moist warmth of the Joker's surprisingly pliant mouth, Batman withdrew, victory coming with that bitter taste on his tongue. That and a lingering sense of... well, *Joker* wafting in his senses.

As Batman pulled back, he blinked within his cowl and found a slack jawed Joker, stupefied expression on the other's painted face.

Joker himself was utterly, completely, moronically flabbergasted. He teased. He taunted. He had even full on molested the Bats, his one true desire, that one night. But he never dreamed...

If all it took was a little game of persuasion, heh heh, well...

Joker was a being of instinct. He didn't question the how or the why. Didn't question his want, the ever-present NEED to have the Bat's attention. Didn't question the inexplicable actions of the other.

All he knew, all he cared about, was that he WANTED more.

He all but sprang on the unexpected Batman, with such force that the Dark Knight nearly toppled over onto the bed. But quick reflexes had the Bat grab the railing to steady himself, the frame taking the brunt of Joker's momentum as it rattled hard against the wall. What Batman should have been doing was holding the Joker at bay, the man's slender limbs intertwining with the Bat's.

Bruce had just enough time to register strong legs locked around his waist, lightly muscled arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his head. Then the Joker's mouth was on his. *Devouring* his lips. Batman's muffled protest was swallowed and consumed by the ravenous scarred mouth, tongue darting in the unguarded opening of one Dark Knight. Alarm didn't even begin to cover the feeling coursing through Batman's nerves. As Bruce, it was an inevitability that the Joker could overpower him. But as the Bat, it was a whole different story.

But it was a feeling Joker thrived on.

Joker couldn't get close enough.

He arched against the armor, stretching himself like a cat even as he curled around the stronger man. He could feel the vigilante tense, then begin to struggle, futile in his one-armed attempts to pry the wiry form of the Joker from his Kevlar enshrouded body. The sound of the handcuffs rattling at the Bat's hearty tugs signaled the vigilante's determination. But Joker wasn't ready to let go. Would never be, had he a choice. He gripped the struggling Bat tighter, fingers clenching around that cowled head, pressing tight lips more firmly into his own. He rolled his hips sensually, pleased to get a startled gasp from the other, slithering his tongue quickly deeper into the warm cavern, almost forgetting his intentions until the pink muscle bumped into the stolen key.

Right. The, er, game plan.

With much effort, Joker forced himself to pull away, key tucked safely back in his own mouth. He clambered slowly back to his own two feet, body shivering at the missing warmth of the other. His only solace was the harsh breathing of the silent Bat a foot in front of him, dark eyes brimming with a tumble of unreadable emotions. The Bat was always hard to read, but Joker didn't mind. It's what kept everything so fresh. So... interesting.

Bruce was flitting through so many emotions -rage, uncertainty, something MORE- that he could hardly tell *what* was going through his head. His fist clenched, taking a step forward as he settled on the more familiar of them all, "This is NOT a game, Joker. I need that key."

"You know how to get it, Batsy." Joker's eyes danced with mirth. Wondering. Daring. Hoping.

"The cops will be here any minute." Batman growled lowly, face tilted down as shadows darkened his features. Refusing. Denying.

"Then *I*, heh, would suggest *you*...HURRY..." Joker remarked with a tilted smirk, his insides all fluttery with anticipation. What would his Bats do, with all the chips knocked down?

The air visibly constricted around that ebony caped form, the vigilante focusing all his energy on a single emotion. His most comforting one to his stubborn ego. The Bat obviously couldn't understand *why* he'd even WANT this. But Joker KNEW. Had known for a while. They were *meant* for each other. He had tried explaining before.

And it looked like another explanation of the obviousness would have to wait, seeing as how a Kevlar armor plated fist was gripping his uniform's collar insistently.

Batman couldn't think. *Wouldn't* think of just how eagerly he wanted to give in. To take the Joker and explore his mouth more fully. But this was wrong, on so many levels. The painted clown had practically had his *way* with him back at the restaurant. Back in the cell that dark night. And every moment before and in between. He was *tired* of being played. So instead of thinking, instead of calculating, instead of looking over the angles, Batman did the one thing he failed to do with *everyone* else EXCEPT the Joker. He just... reacted.

How his fist grabbed the Joker, bodily heaving the man easily with one hand, over his head as he twisted his torso to follow the motion through. How the Joker let out a hoot at the sudden move, obviously enjoying himself even though he was slammed *hard* on the flimsy mattress -bouncing once, twice, three times- at the sheer force of Batman's throw. Just like in the interrogation room, except cozier, since it was softer than the hard metal table. Joker's eyes lit up, remembering the same moment, as he glanced up at Batman expectantly, still laughing.

"Heh eheh heh, all the *familiar* places, right Batsy?" Joker cackled, eager for the attention he had been missing for what felt like DECADES.

But this just made Bruce angrier.

And Batman, in turn, growled, "Shut. Up."

How could the jester be irrevocably happy with *anything* the Dark Knight did, even if it was to beat him to a bloody pulp? It was maddening. It was wrong. So wrong. Then why did it send a spiked thrill to Batman's core? Why did HE feel like the one deprived?

Joker cackled. This was more fun than he had ever had in months. More so than his fling with the Billionaire, only in the fact that it was HIS Bats defeated the other memory. With a vengeance. And ooooh, did the caped crusader look angry. And hungry? Ravenously angry then. The Bat couldn't fool him, Joker KNEW the Bat missed this as much as he did.

And he laughed harder as the realization showed in those widened brown eyes, narrowing viciously as it struck a nerve in Batman's angry visage.

"Shut. Up!" Batman's snarl sent a wonderful shiver from head to toe, the masked man towering lethally on the side of the bed. Shackled, sure, but ever so imposing despite the fact.

Suddenly the Bat was straddling him, making the Joker pause for a moment. Waiting for the inevitable blow. The symphony of plated knuckles against bones and skin. But it never came.

Instead there was the glorious feeling of warm lips on Joker's scarred ones. Joker couldn't believe it. He was doing it again! The seriously repressed Bats was KISSING him again! Joker's gleeful giggles were slowly swallowed by that forceful mouth, tongue plowing into his welcoming one, battling for the key that writhed innocently between their tongues. The laughter stopped as Joker melted like putty under that muscled body, those strong hands pressing him down, knees straddled harshly on either side of Joker's thighs. Holding the jester in place, as if he WANTED to get out. Being beaten by the man felt good, but THIS, Joker was discovering, THIS was even *better*.

Batman growled as the painted menace nipped his lip. The Joker was enjoying this! Of course he was. But then, as Batman bit angrily back, his dark stirrings realized he must have been as well. The second growl rumbled from his chest. No. He was only doing this to get the key. Only playing the sick man's twisted game for his freedom. But the way the Joker keened and arched up into him, bulge rubbing achingly against Batman's thighs, had him suppress a moan himself. He froze solid, Bruce Wayne's meticulous mind picking over the new bits of evidence. But Batman clamped down on it. He was a wrathful vengeance. Pure action with no thought of consequences, as long as the results held true. He would GET that key. Even if this was the only way to get it.

Not the only way, inner Bruce muttered, recalling fists and knuckles in the darkest nights.

But Batman just redoubled his efforts. Bruce Wayne had left the Bat caged too long. And all that energy was coiled, brimming inside with a rumbling crackle of hidden thunder.

He was merciless in his onslaught of the Joker's mouth, tongues clashing and battling for dominance, for the victory of that key. And the painted jester was *game*. That slippery appendage twisted, rolled, tugged to the sides, keeping his chess piece away from the ruthless Knight. Growling, the Bat hooked his free arm around the small back of the clown, forcing the more slender man to arch fully up against him. His chained right had enough slack to grip the back of Joker's neck, increasing the intensity of the kiss tenfold. He could feel the wound on his lip split open once more, bright red coating it anew, fresh stinging clanging around his other senses. But he ignored it as he *finally* gripped the key and wrenched forcefully back, chest heaving for breath.

The Joker looked blissfully dazed, a hint of disbelief coloring his painted features. The red of his grin was smeared, and Batman did NOT want to think of the 'how', 'where' or 'why' at the moment. He had the key. All other musings could wait.

Ignoring the dazed man beneath him and the ominous stirrings within, Batman spit the key into his free palm, reaching over that heaving chest to his cuffs, pushing the key into the lock with a little more effort than it would normally take.

But he should've noted those darkening pits staring hard at him. The burning hunger growing. The senses returning full force. The Joker was not an opponent to overlook, even for a second.

Joker had sampled the copper hint of the forbidden darkness, the Bat's blood ringing on his taste-buds. Even now the fresh blood gleamed at him on those nicely swollen lips, tight with the Bat's ever-serious concentration on the task at hand. And red from the smear of his face paint.

Red...

Because the Bat had been *kissing* him.

"More." The Joker's snarl was feral. His hunger insatiable. He thought these lingering touches, mouth watering kisses, and small teasing would keep the madness at bay. But he had been separated too long, had thought he *lost* his Bats after the tower incident. And he just kept seeking more. More warmth. More strength. More of the BAT.

That pointed cowl jerked to him at the last moment. Too late.

Before Batman could turn the key in the lock, to free himself from the cuffed prison, Joker had pounced. With power in that lightly muscled form, Batman found himself winded, toppled onto his back, cuffs sliding along the railing to follow his position as he was forced on the other end of the bed. The tables turned, the Joker straddling *him* now. A surge of panic rattled his spine, Batman glaring.

"Joker-" He warned.

But the painted man was back at it, mouth leaving no room to speak as lips collided once more. The Joker had him by the plates of his pectoral armor, resolute fingers digging a hold as he yanked the vigilante upright to meet him halfway. The Bat could pretend, but the Joker would not. Could not. He wanted this, and he didn't care if he needed to use *force*. Batman would give it to him, or he would TAKE it.

Batman was frozen stiff at the audacity-

-there wasn't even a KEY in his-

Then he started to struggle. To fight back. Fight the overwhelming heat that threatened to drag him, cape and all, to the dark depths he could NOT allow himself to go. But it was laughingly easy for the painted menace to pin him down, cuffed as Batman was. And taken largely by surprise.

That maddening pink slip of a tongue was working his mouth hard, lapping at Batman's lip even as the Dark Knight gave a harsh hiss. The jester's strength was immeasurable, and it took everything Bruce had to tear away, plopping forcefully back on the thin mattress. His senses were reasonably jarred, his lips prickling with the loss of the moist warmth. But it only took him moments to realize the Joker's hands were madly scrambling to divest him of his utility belt, to get at places *below*."

"Joker, stop this!" Batman grated, the pooling heat making his own erection throb safely beneath the confines of his armor. If the Joker-

He couldn't.

Batman couldn't let him know.

Know how that painted mad man was *affecting* him.

He was the Dark Knight. A symbol for all that was good in the city. The dark vengeance that no normal citizen could shoulder. He was justice incarnate. He could not actually WANT to bed this lunatic. The Joker was the opposite of everything he stood for. The chaos against his order. The madness to his truth.

The last Kevlar plate to his protective cup! It was held in the Joker's hands, flung back over his shoulder with the careless grace of a man about to get his just desserts.

"Joker!" Batman's teeth were bared, grappling desperately with the man atop him. But it was useless, one arm cuffed, the other pinned easily, Joker proceeded to pull the titanium-dipped tri-weave fibers down to expose the beast of a cock he knew Batman sported.

The moment his raging hard on was exposed, Bruce's cheeks flushed darkly. He struggled like a man possessed, Batman attempting to buck the maniac off of him. The cuffs rattled with the strain, but the positioning had his trapped arm stretched too far to be any use. But Joker kept a death grip on the free arm, memorizing every inch and throbbing fold of the glorious shaft before him. There was even a gleaming drop of pre cum glinting on the bobbing tip.

Joker wet his lip, ignoring the trembling fury of the Dark Knight beneath him. Bats wanted to be free. But Joker had been craving this MORE. More than Batman's desire to be free.

His Bats almost died. Almost disappeared before then, but nearly DIED this time. He could've lost him forever.

And instead of following his senseless morals, saving that pathetic Reese, Bats had saved HIM. If there was any question before, it was completely abolished now. Bats NEEDED him. WANTED him around. And the Joker was more than willing to show his gratitude.

And take some of the spoils himself, of course.

"Want this." Joker rambled to himself, "Need this. Need it."

He curled forward to swipe the teasing drop from the straining tip, and it. Tasted. Glorious.

The mangled cry of the Joker's name made those blue eyes refocus on the furious Bat beneath him. Though those cheeks were flushed in more than anger. If he didn't have the throbbing evidence ready and straining before his very eyes, he would not have been certain at all of the Bat's, well, *interest* in this little endeavor.

"Someone's been hiding more than one. Little. SECRET." Joker was smirking, but this was no joke. If it were, the punchline would end in one of them being screwed. Both, if he had any say in it, actually.

"You're a sick man, Joker. YOU. Need. HELP." Batman rumbled in the deep voice of his that would rattle the souls of weaker men, the rasp able to grate more than simple cheese. It could cut through reinforced steel itself.

Joker leaned forward, anything but fear glimmering in his eyes as he licked his lips, whispering in his own nasally tone, "Well, from, heh heh, one sick man to another, let ME help YOU."

Without any warning, without further enticement, Joker had lifted his hips and rammed his unprepared entrance down onto the Bat's dripping cock to the hilt. Their screams were in unison. Both a mixture of pained pleasure. Batman choked, never having felt such an intense velvet heat that encased him now. And this was the JOKER. The infuriating villain that constantly sought his attention. Constantly nipped at his heels. Was constantly on his mind one way or another.

And that painted man was currently on top of him, face twisted in pure bliss and agony, fully sheathed in the Bat's angrily pulsing cock. Joker was in heaven. Either that or an extremely pleasurable part of Hell. Heck, maybe both. But it didn't matter. He had waited so long... and the feeling was simply, indescribable.

Batman's thighs trembled with the restraint, body wanting to thrust up into that maniac's body until the Joker screamed with completion. To have that mouth busy doing something other than constantly cackling all the time. But he held back. He could NOT give in. He could not allow the Joker to just do what he pleased and expect to get away with it.

He could not...

Then it looked like the clown was ready to move again. And Batman feared it would be his undoing. He pulled, strained at his chained arm and pinned arm, but nothing gave. Neither the cuffs nor Joker's unbreakable grip. When physical efforts failed, he quickly became vocal in his protests.

"Joker," Batman choked, a swirl of sensations threatening to drown him, "don't you DARE-"

"NO!" Joker's bark was rabid, eyes snapping open to lock vivid blue eyes with his captive audience below, "*You* don't get to tell me what to do. You LEFT me." Batman winced at the raw hurt that radiated from that voice, forcing his gaze to remain on those accusing eyes. The dark pits softened after that admittance, the Joker's tone still quivering as he repeated with a wet swipe of his tongue, like a man with an addiction, "I need this. Need it. Won't let you take it away, Batsy. WON'T. Not *this* time."

He lifted himself quickly before impaling himself once more on the gloriously full feeling of his Bat's cock, grunting.

It tore a guttural groan from the mostly armored Batman beneath him, those masked eyes sliding shut in denial.

But Joker wasn't having that.

Wouldn't give his Bats the luxury of picturing someone -anyone else- doing this to him.

"Atatata ta, no. Hm, NO. Look at me Bats. LOOK. AT. ME." Joker demanded harshly, pumping his body up and down forcefully at each enunciated word, spittle flying from his crazed mouth.

"Ngh..." Bat shook his head slowly, feeling drugged. He couldn't. Wouldn't.

"I could make it quick." Honeyed words fell from scarred lips, the wet slurp of a small lick on painted lips, "Wouldn't want your, ah, COP friends to come in and find you like this, would we?"

He could see the frown mar that oh-so-serious face, and Joker leaned closer, "Wouldn't wanna ruin what's left of your, er, re-pu-TA-TION, would we? Heh eheh, heh."

Feeling like his eye lids were made of concrete, Batman cracked them open, seeing the instant delight on the clown's face at the Bat willingly revealing his churning brown orbs.

"Better." Joker sighed, "And as you know, I'm a man of my *word*."

Without further warning, Joker set off at a furious pace as he started ramming the Bat's rod into his welcoming heat.

Joker stared openly at the caped crusader below him, Kevlar gleaming as hard as those eyes that glared up at him. The attention. The fury. All honed at HIM. It was delicious. Especially those sounds that came out. Those primal groans and grunts the Joker inspired with every roll of his nurse clad hips. He hadn't worn any underwear. And while this certainly had not been on the agenda, it was a welcome foresight. No waiting. Just put a coin in the wound up Bat machine and. Just. GO.

Batman gripped the sheets and his cape beneath him, body trembling from the onslaught that sparked a fire at every nerve ending. The nurse outfit hitched at every thrust the Joker did, and soon the clown's own throbbing shaft was exposed, the rubbing of fabric against the sensitive anatomy tearing mewls of pleasure from the deranged psychopath above him. But Batman had to give it to the man, the Joker definitely knew how to ride cock.

Bruce Wayne was a puddle of goo, wanting so much to just ram his hips upwards, lost in the sensations. But Batman held back. The Joker may have had a 'date' with the billionaire playboy, but that did not sit well in Batman's book. The man was a murderer. A criminal mastermind.

But fuck did he fit gorgeously well on his straining endowment.

True to his word, Joker was rapid in his movements, quick to draw them closer to the end.

Joker wanted this. Wanted it. So bad.

Then Joker managed to make Batsy hit that SPOT and the jester's body jerked so nicely, an electric flare of pleasure jetting through him. He sought for it again, wanting friction against the bundle of nerves in his ass, the sensation better than any before. The Bats made him feel so... FULL. Draining away the cold emptiness inside. Filling him with his heated manhood, chasing away the cold. The loneliness. He attempted to find it again, bucking desperately, but it eluded him.

With a wordless snarl, he released the Bat's free arm, in favor of pumping himself in time with his frantic movements, seeking out that pleasurable angle once more.

So caught up in watching the inexplicably HOT play of emotions on that painted face, Batman almost didn't realize his slight freedom of movement. Almost.

He quickly jerked his arm to his trapped right, while the Joker was suitably distracted. He twisted the key and with a click, the cuffs fell free. That slight sound had the Joker's eyes snap open, almost too lost in the sensations to notice. Panic flared in that blue gaze. He was close. So close!

A growl and a swirl of the dark cape, and Batman was on top once more, slamming the Joker on his back, though they were still connected where it counted. He started to pull out, causing a frantic whimpering from the painted menace below him. Joker grappled hand to hand with him, legs attempting to tighten around the retreating form.

"No Bats-" He started to cry out.

Only to have his mouth stretched open in a wordless cry as the vigilante promptly slammed back into him, finding that perfect angle in the first try. Sparks flew before his eyes, the sensation pulsing deeply at the Joker's core. His toes curled, his heart beat, and he could barely breath. Barely move.

"Is *this* what you want, Joker?" Batman's growl sent a spike of heat to stir directly to his loins, "For me to FUCK you to the ground?"

The man was primal. Out of control. It fit so well on that gleaming ebony form. So perfect on those hardened features. That alone nearly made Joker cum. He was free, the Bats was FREE, and instead of running off, he was plowing into Joker's tight entrance without mercy. Without regard for the jester's comfort, hiking his legs wide, as he growled furiously. Pounding into him with all he was worth. Just how Joker LIKED it.

Joker managed to nod wordlessly.

Yes. YES.

A thousand times yes.

Batman could feel the heat coiling tighter. Tighter. His end was coming, and so was the Joker's. While his mind screamed outright that this was WRONG, his body no longer listened. This man played with him. Taunted him. Teased him. But the Bat inside was just as twisted. Wanted this. Wanted to see this carnal act through to its completion. He was Batman. And he could dish out just as savagely as he could take. The loose cuffs rattled with each brutal thrust. The bed frame shook against the wall in a testament to the Bat's fury.

Joker couldn't take much more. He took himself in his desperate hand, feeling like he would fall apart if he didn't reach the pinnacle soon.

But with a growl, Batman swatted the hand away, releasing one of the Joker's trembling thighs to do so.

"Bats-" Joker keened desperately. Needy. The tone plucking easily at the coursing heat running through Batman's veins. The heat that took control of his mind and body.

The heat inspired by the Joker begging beneath him.

With a guttural grunt, Batman took the Joker in his own gloved hand, delivering a friction only the vigilante could, to Joker's weeping cock.

Joker cried out at that, never knowing just how GOOD his Bats could be with his hands. Useful for more things than dealing harsh blows, then. And he knew just how much restraint that powerful hand was showing, pumping his tender shaft just *right*.

And his cock was hitting perfectly in Joker's writhing core, if the steadily increasing mantra of, "Bats, Bats, *Bats*!" was any indication.

They were close. Both of them.

Bruce Wayne wasn't thinking. Batman didn't give him time to. All he wanted, at that moment, was to have the crazy clown scream his name.

Batman stopped, earning a choked snarl from the green-haired man beneath him. He leaned his devil's horns close, voice guttural and without mercy as he demanded roughly, "BEG for it, Joker."

Joker didn't even hesitate.

The pleas streamed from his scarred lips, grabbing at the Batman, fearing the vigilante would leave him high and dry, "Please Bats. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Pound me, I want you to do it. Do it. Do it, c'mon! Batsy, please!"

And Batman did.

He unleashed a torrent of thrusts so powerful the bed cracked against the walls. He pumped Joker's aching organ without mercy, hitting the one spot with his cock again and again and again.

Joker saw the stars and more, body growing rigid from the stimulation. He tensed and came harder than he ever had in his life, screaming in ecstasy, "BATMAN!"

And the Dark Knight followed closely after. The sight, the sound, the feel of Joker clenching around him was too much. Too much to handle without giving in. He roared his own deep release, seed spilling rapidly into the Joker's tight hole, the excess dribbling out.

Batman wanted to collapse in exhaustion. His body spent and satiated like never before. He felt as if he had run a few hundred laps around Gotham in record time. And from the looks of it, Joker looked to be in about the same boat.

-o-o-o-

Bruce Wayne sat in his penthouse chair, staring out the large glass wall, the dark city bathed in predawn light. Alfred had called again, but he hadn't picked up the phone. Couldn't.

Not yet.

The handsome billionaire turned to glare accusingly at the pointed mask in his lap. The cowl seemed to glare back.

What has he done?

It was as Ra's Al Ghul had said. He feared most what lay within him. His own power. His own rage. But the former mentor, later turned nemesis, had failed to mention one more on that damning list.

His own desires.

He was scared once more. As he had been as a boy.

This thing with the Joker. It terrified him more than anything in the world.

But he couldn't just be Bruce Wayne. He was the Batman. And the Dark Knight had a few more things to do for the city. A few more thugs to take care of. He only hoped he could avoid the cops that were out for him.

And hopefully the Joker as well.


	6. You lead, I'll follow

Joker was still angry.

The Bat had slipped his grasp once more. The scene at the hospital, delicious as it had been, had left him more than lacking in the plan to keep the Bats in his sights.

No matter.

It seemed Gordon had forced his Bat out to play.

And Joker would be ever patient. Waiting, for when he did.

-o-o-o-

"How did you know I would come?" Batman stepped out of the shadows, but Gordon still found it difficult to pinpoint him in the darkness of the Major Crime Unit's police headquarters rooftop.

Batman had been surveilling the meeting place for over an hour. Couldn't be too careful, what with his head wanted by the scum as well as the police force of Gotham.

"I didn't." Gordon replied with a smirk, taking off his spectacles to rub them clean with his shirt. It was a habit he often used to calm his nerves. When he put them back on, he was relieved to see the vigilante still there. Closer, actually. But Gordon knew better than to be afraid. He smiled, "You know there's this funny thing called hope..."

"And it is *my* hope that your men won't come up here at any moment to drag me off in cuffs." A smile wasn't present on that stoic face, but it was heard in that familiar growl.

"The men and women in my department know the truth, Batman. You have nothing to fear here." Gordon went over to the ledge, turning his back on the Dark Knight as he shoved cold hands in his pockets, shrugging.

Batman stalked silently to his side, observing the streets below, as the Commissioner did.

Gordon cast him a sidelong glance, "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

At the man's silence, Gordon chuckled, "Of course you did, otherwise you wouldn't have set foot anywhere near this rooftop."

A companionable silence fell once more. Cars sped by. A street lamp flickered, barely holding on. Gasping for its last breaths before finally dying out.

"I *could* ask you why my men almost apprehended Joker at Gotham East-"

"But you won't." Batman cut him off, tensing.

"No, no I won't. But it at least explains a few things. Like the mess that was the Lucas lackey back in Reese's building. What... Uh... What is it with you two?" Gordon knew he was treading on thin ice. But it had to be said. It couldn't be coincidence that the Dark Knight disappeared the night after he shared a cell with the psychotic clown.

The Bat was silent so long, Gordon was sure he had finally managed to push the vigilante over the edge.

Then some words were uttered, and it took Gordon a moment to process it.

"I wish I knew..."

-o-o-o-

Batman couldn't shake the ominous feeling that clung to the tail end of his cloak, the memory fiber buzzing as though already zapped through with the electric current that activated it. He made a mental note to have Fox check on it as he ran through the rooftops, silent with the grace that could turn lethal in an instant. He still needed to put in that special order for the cape, falling from buildings with extra weight an unplanned event that could get him killed one day.

Gordon's intel had him skulking around in the docks, attempting to nab the Falcone syndicate's top drug dealer. A high profile mobster by the name of Fredrico Maroni. Salvatore Maroni's nephew, in fact. They had seriously hit 'em where it hurt, their deep pockets. With the savings all gone, Maroni's men had been scrambling to scrounge a profit once more. If the syndicate still hadn't held some fear on the streets, their tabs probably wouldn't have been enough to keep 'em all fed.

If they cut off their trickling inflow of cash, the limping mobsters would be effectively crippled.

At least, that was the plan.

He just needed the nephew alive so he could interrogate him. Needed the names of the smugglers. Get them out of the picture and the mobsters' days were numbered.

The men were laughingly easy to find. Out in front of the dock warehouse, the lights washing their guarded stances in a yellow glow. He counted seven.

Taking a moment to aim, he took a breath.

The next instant metallic Batarangs were chucked, the lights going out in quick succession. While the men shouted frantically, not having figured to fish out their flashlights yet, Batman swooped in. There was a difference between moving in shadows, and being one with the night. It was a step Bruce mastered during his League training.

Everyone fears the unknown, and being unseen was a major factor in that. Batman utilized fear like a double edged blade, swiping through the panicked men even as he performed his own moves to take down the relatively large crowd. It was a mix of jujitsu among other fighting forms, the Dark Knight gliding easily from one to the other as he countered and pressed his attack. When two were left standing, one finally had the idea to use the gun in his hands.

Batman growled, dodging the blind shots even as he ducked and swept forward, knocking the weapon out of the mobster's hands and knocking him harshly over the head with it. He promptly dismantled it before the poor man even hit the ground in unconsciousness, the pieces clattering alongside his body.

There was one man left.

Or rather, one set of hasty footsteps beating it down an alley.

Adrenaline pumping, Batman rappelled swiftly to the rooftops, leaping from the grating and hopping on the rooftops in close pursuit. He would catch him, of course. The only one who ever gave him trouble during the chase was Joker. Batman cursed as he stumbled at the thought of the mad man, righting his footing quickly.

He gave a grim smirk as he noted the man was heading towards a dead end. He hadn't noticed yet.

He leaped down with deadly grace, absorbing the shock of his fall on the balls of his feet, crouching to avoid broken knees before standing at his full, terrifying height.

And it worked.

The man was scared shitless, legs quaking.

"G-get away from me, man!" The goon shouted, terrified.

"Not until you tell me what I need to know." Batman growled, stalking forward.

This was the first time the mobster had seen their attacker, and his eyes glazed in fear. He whipped out his gun.

Shit.

Batman paused.

He was too far to disarm, too close to dodge. He had gotten sloppy. And the separated plates of his new suit wasn't as hardy against bullets as the old Kevlar, much less against straight shots. He readied himself for the hit, though gunshot wounds were never pretty. And they hurt like hell. If they didn't kill you first.

A loud snarl had both Batman and the lone gunman looked up. Wordless, a flash of purple and green fell on the mobster, kicking and punching and tearing at the man. The Dark Knight was too stunned to move.

When he was finished, Joker straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, combing out a little of the crazy before kicking the unconscious man one more time -for good measure- as he snarled, "*NO ONE* shoots my Bats but ME."

Batman's insides were churning. Bruce Wayne was yelling to run. But he couldn't move. A gush of air blew stiffly through the alley, whipping the Dark Knight's cape. And Joker's blue eyes locked onto him, refusing to let the vigilante melt into the shadows.

"Bats! How, er, niiiiice to see you here. Where have you been?" Joker attempted to small talk, taking a step forward, "You know, it's been hard waiting. I knew Gordy had asked you out to play, but *he* likes oh-so-much to, heh eheh, *follow* the rules that it can get, well, *kinda* boring, if you get my drift."

Batman took a step back.

It made nervous tick pull at Joker's head and he quickly stated, "Atatatat ta ta, if you leave early I MAY just have to pay a visit to Gordy's family. Or that lovely playmate of yours, Brucy."

Batman froze, then snarled.

Joker cackled, dancing forward as he asked, "Oh ho ho ho ho, have I made the Bats mad? I've made you mad, haven't I? Don't you know that, er, there's really only one person I wanna spend time with?"

Batman couldn't help the flinch as the maniac prowled around him, his muscles twitching with the memory of beating the man senseless. But what was the point? The Joker would only enjoy it.

"I have things to do." Batman snapped, turning his head slightly so his burning gaze could follow the green haired menace.

"Ooh what fun!" Joker clapped his hands together, coming to a halt in front of the armored figure, the Bat exuding barely checked fury from his very pores, "Can I join you?"

"NO."

"Please?"

"*NO*."

"Oh, c'mon, Batsy-"

"Joker-"

"Oh, I know, I know. 'NO'. But you see, *you* need help. Now I'm not expecting any thanks for saving your life. No no no no no, that's not what you're about. Goin' for that whole, er, lone brooding vigilante facade, blah blah blah." Joker paused in his hand gesturing to lean in, black rimmed eyes arching with his brow as he added, "You're welcome, by the way." before he straightened, walking a little bit away as he continued, "*I* just figured you could use the help. I WON'T kill anyone, er, too badly anyways, 'cause I know how that just eats away at you. Not healthy, really. But I won't. For you. And we'll both sleep better at night. You, knowing I haven't killed anyone. And me, knowing you haven't died."

The Joker twirled to face the Bat with a widening smile, wiggling his brows as he asked, "Whaddaya say?"

Batman hesitated. It sounded too... well. Too logical. What was the Joker after?

Could he really trust the maniac?

Did he really want Joker near him?

Sensing his indecision, Joker added, "Another thing. If I'm with *you*... well, at least you'll know I'm not out THERE causing some sort of dastardly mischief or whatever."

Batman growled. Smug bastard had him. With great reluctance, the Dark Knight turned and said, "...FINE."

He shot his grappling hook upwards, hand grasping the rope as he prepared to surge upwards. Only to stop, facing a gleeful Joker with an expectant look on his face.

Warily, Batman demanded, "...What?"

Joker grinned, arms held out, "Room for one more?"

Batman let out an exasperated sigh, not even gracing the clown with an answer as he zipped upwards, too angry for words.

"Spoil sport!" Joker chided after him with a laugh. It was almost too EASY to rattle the Bat's cage.

-o-o-o-

"...you're mad again, aren't you? Heh heh, yea, you are. You, uuuuhh, should really learn to lighten up. Don't wanna have those frown lines become permanent by the time you're a wrinkled old bag, do you?" Joker was a little nervous. Sure, he liked getting a rise out of his nemesis, but pushing TOO far at this critical stage might have some... unwanted consequences. The Bat had really and truly disappeared last time. If he played his cards right, he may just have a chance next time of finding him, should the Bats do the disappearing act once more. Heck, maybe the Bats won't even WANT to leave.

But that was wishful thinking.

Batman's frown deepened, still staring at the entrance to the EMPTY warehouse. They had gotten away.

While Batman had been busy chasing that sentry, then promptly *not* beating up the Joker as the crazy clown rambled away at him, the nephew had gotten away. Quick. Clean.

Traceless.

His fist on the ledge clenched audibly, the Kevlar creaking under the strain.

"I... can see you're gonna need some space..." Joker mentioned slowly, taking a few steps back. Not paying attention, the jester accidentally stumbled over a chip in the roof tiles.

Batman cracked.

With a snarl, he whirled and punched the Joker across the face. But the Joker was no light weight. Sure, he was slightly smaller in the muscle department, but he more than made up for it in his speed and agility. He dodged the next swing, throwing in two of his own.

And the tussle began.

It lasted all of ten minutes, before they broke apart, chests heaving, both more bloody than moments ago.

Joker's aching body was singing. He hadn't had such a good fight in so long. It was satisfying. But completely contradictory to his true goal. Wiping the trail of blood from his mouth with his sleeve, Joker snarked, "You REALLY need to get a hold of your anger issues, Batsy. Tell me you at least *feel* better."

As much as Bruce hated to admit it, the crazed clown was right. It DID feel good to take it all out. And Joker had taken his rage, his frustrations, and threw it right back at him. As scary as it was, it seemed the Joker really could read him. See what was beneath the mask. What the darker sides of him desired. And it shook him to his core.

Wordless, Batman merely grunted with a brisk nod, turning to get his disordered thoughts in check. The Joker was really throwing him off with his questionable actions. *Everything* the man did made absolutely no sense to Batman. And it was fraying the ends of his mind, pushing him farther from sanity. He was the Dark Knight, the darker side of the light. The protector of order and good in Gotham. Joker was the Agent of Chaos. The Clown Prince of Crime. What was he doing there?

WHY hadn't Batman thrown him in jail yet?

A small thought inside whispered, bitter.

The Joker would just escape again.

If he didn't want to stay, no place could hold him. Which begged the question, since the Joker WAS out free, why did he choose to spend his time bugging Batman rather than doing his usual form of special mayhem?

The next words out of Batman's hardened lips surprised both of them equally, the tone hushed in its truth, "Your past sins won't be absolved just because you help me out, Joker..."

That drew a muted blank from the other, before Joker quickly recovered to reply, equally low, "I know that, Batsy..."

Batman quickly turned to look at the Prince of Crime, never having heard such a somber and serious tone come out of those painted lips. He caught the tail end of a strangle of emotions on that scrunched face, before the Joker was back to his normal, witty self.

"I got a *surprise* for you..." The clown cackled, before leaping over the side of the roof.

Batman rushed over, hand outstretched as though he wanted to SAVE to maniac, before his knees knocked to the edge of the ledge. Realizing as the booted sound of feet clanging on a fire escape platform shook him to his senses. His fingers flexed.

What was happening to him?

Did he actually CARE about the Joker's safety?

Joker's face lit up as he hooted in a burst of laughter at the Bat's quick appearance on the rooftop.

"Concerned, are we?" He smirked, before clambering quickly down the ladder.

Giving a muttered sound of frustration, Bat took a moment to gather himself, before stepping over the ledge. Arms spread wide automatically, hands splayed wide as he activated the electric current, the memory fibers of the cape hardening and allowing him to glide smoothly to the ground. He landed with a thud, armor absorbing most of it, before straightening.

Alfred had told him a horror story once, of a friend in Burma that had dropped from four times his height to avoid gunfire. Except during all the adrenaline, he forgot to bend his knees. Locked his legs instead. And when he hit the dirt, he screamed bloody murder. He could see the whites of his bones in his legs. Broke straight through the joints. Alfred had to fireman carry the man all the way back to camp. Barely made it with the shock and blood loss.

It was a mistake Bruce Wayne made sure never to repeat. And Batman followed suit.

Still irked by his own reactions earlier, he merely stood still, cape draped around him, watching as the clown made his own way down.

"You see Bats, while I had to scuttle after you on the ground, since you so ungraciously declined bringing me to the rooftops with you, I had a thought. Maybe, heheh heh, just *maybe* it would be useful to bring THIS along."

Joker hopped the last few feet to the ground, pointing to the corner of the street. Bat's gaze followed, frowning as he saw the unconscious gunman on the ground. He wasn't dead. The shallow rise and fall of his chest proved that theory false. But then why...? He looked at the Joker curiously, "Souvenir?"

"Nah, an interrogation sucker... I call dibs! I got this handy new chainsaw-"

"No." The words were out of the Bat's mouth before Joker could even finish, the vigilante striding to stand over the body with his arms crossed, glaring at the Joker with a stern look.

"But I got some shiny new toys-"

"NO."

"But *I* brought him." Joker whined, clearly disgruntled that he was limited in his artistic endeavors.

Batman was silent a moment in thought, "...If you let me lead... I...will *allow* you to follow."

"Ooh hoo hoo hoo, this day just keeps getting better and BETTER!" Joker cackled, clapping his hands and beaming. HIS Bats was actually inviting him to come along! Without any incentives whatsoever. They *must* be making progress.

"Don't make me regret this..." Batman trailed darkly, gripping the poor unconscious lackey by the nape of his jacket, dragging the body behind him on the ground as he stalked towards the warehouse.

Humming happily, Joker trailed behind the Bats, admiring the raw strength in the dark form. He wasn't even breaking a sweat! The goon had to be two, three hundred pounds, tops. Hell, probably four. Heh heh, all that power coiled in the vigilante's muscled form. The things the caped crusader would be able to endure...

The wonderful sounds he would make...

Joker wondered if he could convince the crusader for a roll in the hay.

Hmmm, no. No, probably not the best time. While his Bats wasn't too angry at him for the moment, he wasn't entirely pleased exactly, either. Gotta play his cards right.

He needed to divert his attention *away* from the Kevlar covered ass.

Quick.

"Is this a field trip?" Joker spoke without thinking, chuckling to himself at the brilliantly devised diversionary tactic. Not that the Bats would appreciate it. He rarely did.

"Joker."

"Yes?"

"Stop talking."

See.

-o-o-o-

The interrogation didn't last long. When the crony saw the Bat he was already shaking the chains that bound him to the chair. When he saw the *Joker* saunter up behind the vigilante, the poor man started sobbing. He had heard horror stories of what happened to Gambol, one of the big dogs in the syndicate. One mobster that had bit too deep, placing a bounty on the crazed clown's head. Alive OR dead. Joker had showed him. Sliced his mouth wide open, except little Gambol never survived the operation. And his men, well, they were forced to kill each other with pool sticks to live. They all bled out. It wasn't pretty.

"I'm tellin' ya, it ain't normal." Joker frowned as though he couldn't figure it out, striding alongside Batman down the hallway, "Big old Nancy back there cryin' so darn much. I mean, honestly. I was JUST standing there *staring* at him. YOU were doing all the work. YOU'RE the one that had all the fun. Let me just stick it to him, for good measure."

Joker turned, about to head back to the abandoned warehouse office.

Batman grabbed at the purple suited shoulder, effectively stopping the man mid stride as he growled, "No, he told us what we needed to know."

"What, names? Bo-ring. There wasn't nearly enough blood." Joker snarked, wondering if he should shrug off the warmth of that hand or just linger, let it rest there a moment longer.

It didn't last nearly long enough. The Bat releasing him to continue down the hall.

Joker looked out the window and could see the predawn lightening the sky. He frowned sulkily. He knew what this meant. The Bats was going into hibernation. And sure enough, when he looked back down the hall, the Bats was gone.

-o-o-o-

"These naps during board meetings have always been a frequent thing. Until lately. I believe this is the first time in weeks that you've lapsed back into it." Lucius Fox smiled that knowing smile, hands in his pockets as he strode up to the zombie-like billionaire.

He didn't ask questions. Never did. Somehow the perceptive man just *knew*. Bruce could see why his father had kept him around.

"Yeah my, uh, old hobby popped back up." Bruce smiled in return, glancing at him from his view of Gotham from the top floor of Wayne Tower. He couldn't help but wonder where the Joker was now. What he was up to. He hadn't killed the crony, which Bruce honestly thought he would. Gotham PD had picked him up early this morning. Shaken, but alive. But Bruce Wayne had other matters to deal with. He cleared his throat, always feeling like a schoolboy when he approached Lucius with special requests, "You, uh, think you can reconfigure my gear? My base jumping seems to have quite a few irregularities. Seagulls usually run into me when I do. Nearly brought me down on numerous occasions."

The dark skinned man looked down at the schematics and diagrams the young billionaire had slipped into his folder earlier. Made him smile as he remembered it nearly threw off his presentation, when he stumbled across it. Of course, Wayne was busy silently snoring away across the table, the picture of innocence with his mouth parted slightly, hair mussed as he leaned back into his chair, slouched.

"Those must be some pre-tty heavy Seagulls, Mr. Wayne, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks Lucius." Bruce tried and failed horribly to cover up his yawn.

"If you wanna thank me, get some rest, son." Fox couldn't help but grin, patting the younger man on the back. As long as the Batman made time for the city, he would always have time to help any way he could.

-o-o-o-

"You think it's true what they're sayin'?"

"What? The Boss workin' with the Bat?"

"Nah, it can't be. He *hates* the guy. We all do."

"But then why-"

"Shhh! Shh! He's-"

The door clanged open, a weary Joker slumping through. He gazed around the room, his cronies all still. Silent. He just cast them a sparing glare, stumbling up the stairs, "Keep it down. Don't. Disturb. Me."

They knew better than to question it.

But when Joker threw himself down on his ratty mattress, the last thing that would come to him was sleep.

He knew what they were saying. ALL of them. That he had gone soft. That he was scared of the Bats. Gone soft on the Bats. All true, in their own way.

But he wasn't scared of the Bats.

Oh no.

He was terrified that the man would leave again.

And if that meant good behavior.

No killing people or blowing things up... well...

The least he could do was try.

For Batsy, he found he was almost willing to do anything.

The fact that he had overdosed on chaos in the Bat's absence, the thrill of it all sapped away by the continued inattention, had absolutely NO say in the matter. He had wanted to KILL the man that had almost shot his Bats so bad.

Had contemplated it.

Was standing there, *staring* at the man right up until the police sirens had sounded outside the building. He was sure the terrified man had peed himself, but what did it matter? This was between himself and the Dark Knight.

Grumbling, he shifted in the uncomfortable bed, hand stretched out to the other side. The empty side. His fingers curled, then clenched.

A soft name sounded in the room, those scarred lips whispering, "Bats..."

-o-o-o-

"You *really* didn't have to do this, Gordon." Bruce grimaced, feeling stuffy in his suit, looking around the Galla at the large amount of people milling about.

"I had to thank you somehow. And a ball, well, it seemed fitting after the generous amount you donated. Though, truthfully, it wasn't *my* idea. A lot of charitable committees pushed me to it." Gordon admitted, straightening his own, strangling tie. He wasn't sure who hated this more. Himself, or the man standing across from him.

Bruce shuffled, feeling awkward in this black tie affair. What he was *really* itching to do was track down those names. The sooner he could wrap the syndicate up, the sooner he could get this whole mess in order.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced down at the caller ID and grimaced. He had been avoiding the man for two days. He really should tell him something.

Excusing himself, Wayne walked out of the gallant ballroom to take the call.

He didn't even know where to begin.


	7. Painted Dance

"Alfred I-"

"-*COMPLETELY* inexcusable Master Wayne-"

"But I-"

"-I honestly thought you could be DEAD-"

"Alfr-"

"-don't you know what that could have done to my poor heart? I was ready to book a flight back and make funeral arrangements. FUNERAL arrangements, Master Wayne. And you know how much I dread those."

Bruce grimaced. Waiting for the Brit to be finished with his rant. And he was in the right. It was true, all of it.

When it seemed the Englishman had stopped for a breather, he interjected quickly into the phone, "Alfred, I'm sorry."

"Well," The old man huffed over the phone, "Sorry doesn't even *begin* to make up for the ordeal you put me through."

He was still angry. But his tone had quieted some. It was a start.

"I don't know what to do, Alfred..." Bruce trailed, gripping the cell phone tightly, eyes wandering the lavishly furnished room.

There was a sigh, and silence over the phone. Bruce could hear the muffled din of party guests outside the closed door.

"So it's true then, what I've been hearing..." Alfred sounded weary.

"Maybe he's changed, Alfred. I don't know. Tell me what to do."

"That *monster* killed Rachel, Master Wayne. I could tell you what to do, but that's not how you handle things."

"How I wish I could..."

"You and I BOTH know that's not true, sir."

"But what is there left to do?"

"...Arkham."

"That place can't hold him, Alfred."

"I know, sir. Just wishful thinking, on my part."

"On us both, Alfred." Bruce muttered. Though the inner Bat growled.

Liar.

He didn't know what he wanted.

Not anymore.

Growing up, it had been so easy. The world had been divided in black and white. None of this grey area. Although the Joker was anything but. He threw the whole black and white system out, adding his own splash of color into it.

At the continued silence, Bruce almost didn't catch Alfred's last words.

"What was that?" He asked, feeling as though he had just woken up. Sluggish. Thoughts of the Joker always seemed to affect him this way.

"Just *try* to pick up the phone next time, sir." Alfred repeated, ever patient.

"Careful, Alfred. You're starting to sound more and more like a mother hen." Bruce grinned.

He could see the other's smile through his lovingly sarcastic tone, "Well, sir, maybe if someone would act reasonable for once, I may not develop that particular syndrome."

"I'll talk to you later, Alfred." Bruce chuckled, heart feeling lighter already, with just minutes of conversation with his dear friend and close confidant. Besides Rachel, Bruce never really had any good friends growing up. Not any *real* one's, anyway. Everyone was always interested more in the status of peers and their fat wallets. Too busy to pay attention to more important things.

"Well, *if* you pick up, sir." Alfred joked. And they ended their conversation with a small laugh.

Bruce stared at the phone in his hand even after he had hung up. It was nice to hear the old man's voice, but it could never replace his *actual* presence. He clutched at it like a life preserver. Alfred always knew what to say, but this time he wished the butler would just TELL him what to do. Just tell him how to act, who to be. This whole Joker mess was just... too much. He couldn't *stand* the jester. The clown took too much enjoyment in pushing his buttons. Or was it that... he was afraid?

But of what?

What could the Joker possibly have over him, that he should be afraid?

As Bruce Wayne, he had the money, the connections, and more. As Batman he had the muscle, the power, and everything else.

Bruce's musing were interrupted as the door opened and someone stepped inside, "Ex-cuse me... Is this where the bathroom is?"

Caught off guard, Bruce turned, trying to slip his Wayne mask back on. But the dirty blonde had caught the tail end of it, cocking his head, "Is this a bad time?"

"I'm sorry, I..." Bruce started to answer half-heartedly. But stopped, unsure exactly why.

Something was fluttering frantic in his head, something familiar. Bruce narrowed his gaze, looking past the concerned question to the face underneath. The man was devilishly good looking. A fit build. Sleek but with some muscles under the suit. A runner's build.

His dirty blonde locks curled around his face and strong jaw, but by no means detracting from his beauty. Rather, the grunge look seemed to *enhance* it. Oddly enough, those piercing blue eyes watched him like a hawk, despite his casual demeanor, as if expectant. Waiting for something.

It was when Bruce's gaze trailed over the man's flawlessly bronzed skin, lingering at the raised scars on either side of his mouth, that the billionaire started. He looked up at those laughing eyes, that familiarly widening smirk.

Holy shi-

Bruce Wayne raced to the balcony doors. Perhaps Batman was safe from the lunatic's dagger, but Bruce Wayne was just another pretty face in the crowd. He didn't know the Joker's mood at the moment. And definitely did NOT wanna chance it. His inner Bat agreed with a vengeance.

The Joker was quick on his feet.

A fact Batman would never underestimate again and one Bruce should never have forgotten.

The blond haired menace shut the glass door even as Bruce opened it, pressing heavily against the playboy's suited back, effectively pushing Bruce's front against the cold exterior, and pinning him in place. A rising panic fluttered in Wayne's chest. He wasn't ready. Wasn't prepared to face the mad man just yet. His walls were crumbled, his guard down from the comforting conversation he just had on the phone.

What was the Joker doing there? How had he found him again?

Why did it feel so... warm having the jester's body so close?

Danger. His inner Bat raged. The Joker was danger and chaos incarnate.

Bruce struggled, but it was no use. The man had the upper hand, once more. And as infuriating as it was, he had to concede momentary defeat. But Bruce did not have to be happy about it.

"Joker." Bruce spat with as much venom as possible.

"Ooh hoo hoo, Brucy boy. You always rise past my expectations. No one else recognized me without my face on. The coppers at the door didn't even *look* at me twice. Hee Hee. Imagine my, er, surprise at seeing the guest of the hour disappear. It only took a little bit of searching, and here. You. Are." Joker grinned, suited chest fitting perfectly against Wayne's back. They were about the same height. Surprising since Bruce always felt like he should be taller. Seemed taller, especially in his Bat garb.

"What do you want, Joker?" Bruce bit through his teeth, fighting the trembling that wanted to shake his frame. He wanted to say it was rage. But he knew it was something more.

Joker leaned closer, breath curling intimately between the crook of Bruce's neck, "What about some more interesting questions. Like, ah, was the *infamous* Bruce Wayne, playboy and suave billionaire bachelor, just checking me out a second ago?"

A bulge rested easily against Bruce's backside, and his mind lapsed momentarily in shock at its presence. He had to be imagining it. Maybe if he stood still long enough, it would go away. As if to reassure the other it truly was there, Joker rocked against him suggestively. Enticingly. Joker didn't mind the attention. Was a whore for it, actually.

Bruce felt dread creep up his throat like living vines, holding his throat captive. But he tore through them, glaring at the door before him angrily, "Why can't we have civilized conversation for once? Face to face."

The Joker shrugged, "Er, okay."

In a move too fast for Bruce to register, Joker had whirled him around, before promptly shoving him backwards. Bruce took a few faltering steps, before stumbling over the arm of a couch, toppling harshly back into the cushions. Then the Joker was on top of him, caging him in with arms and legs. Bruce's only solace was that the man was content to hover, not making much bodily contact.

"Better?" Joker crooned, knowing EXACTLY how uncomfortable the man was in this position. It reminded him of his Bats, so eager for control. For the ridiculous notion of space and the blind comfort it offered. Oh how the Joker just *loved* to trample that naive notion under his foot, and beat it to the point of obscurity.

Bruce's brow arched, cutting a path through his panic as he rumbled, "This is... NOT exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh, I know Brucy. But I can't have you running off again, can I?" Joker chuckled matter-of-factly. The billionaire's unease was just a bonus given the situation.

"It seemed the appropriate response. Given your past reputation, I didn't know if you were gonna come after me with a knife." Bruce eyed him warily, his throat drier than he remembered a moment ago. He did NOT like having the Joker this close. It was reminding him of too many memories. As both the Bat *and* Bruce Wayne.

"Ha hah ahee hee ho," Joker burst into his familiar cackle, "You thought I would KILL you? Why would I *kill* you?"

Then the Joker seemed to think about it for a moment, brow creasing as he mentioned, "Although, I *may* have to punish you for omitting certain facts. Certain, er, unmentioned connections and ties you really have with a certain BAT character."

Bruce frowned, "I don't know what you're talking about-"

Joker fisted his collar, shaking him with every rising word, "Do. *Not*. LIE TO ME, Bruce." He forcefully calmed himself, releasing his shaking grasp to comb through his hair, straightening his suddenly crazed shift in mood. At a calmer tone, he said scathingly, "There's no point, really. I am. NOT. Stupid. My clowns have already learned the fatal repercussions of such a, eheh heh, foolhardy gesture."

Bruce cleared his throat, clearly taken aback at the ease with which Joker flipped through his demeanor. The man truly was unpredictable. He didn't doubt the wrong words could have a hidden blade pulled to his throat at any moment. Or plunged through his heart. The irony of the situation almost tugged at a bitter grin on the handsome billionaire's features. The Joker wanted the Bat. And killing him would most certainly ensure he would never return. He opted instead, for a more careful choice of words, "You must know the, uh, sensitivity of such private information. No one else knows."

Joker grinned wickedly, eyes lighting up in excitement like a kid in a candy store. Of course, this particular child would probably hold the store owner at knifepoint and demand whole bus loads of candy, but still...

"I knew it, oho ho, Brucy boy. You are just FULL of surprises. Like a piñata." Joker licked his lips, pleased that his theory had been proven true. Who else could have let the Bat know where he was going? Who else had the time to warn him? Joker hadn't even told his goons where he was going.

"Except I hit back." Bruce warned. If the Joker even so much as *thought* about hitting him, all bets were off. He wouldn't hold back.

This had Joker cackling again, "Such a backbone on you, too. I wonder what I will get for Christmas!"

"A one way ticket to Arkham, if St. Nicholas had *any* consideration for my sanity." Bruce replied harshly, fingers clenching on the cushions.

"Oh, Brucy." Joker grinned cheekily, "I doubt the jolly old man would want to visit ME. I'm so far off his naughty list it would be in his, er, good *health* -at least, ah, as much good health a man THAT size could have- to stay away from me."

"A luxury I am unfortunate enough to *not* have..."

"Oh Brucy! Words hurt, you know?" Joker cracked another grin, "Besides, I had to pay you a visit. What else do I have to occupy my time while the Bat sleeps the day away?"

If only.

Bruce couldn't believe he was even suggesting this, "What? No more banks for you to rob?"

Joker hooted, jumping to his feet as he pivoted to pace in front of the couch, "You *are* a comedian, Brucy. I can't... erm... DO that anymore. Not only has it lost its, hmm, flavorful *appeal*, buuuut, ahhhh..." Joker clicked his tongue, shaking his head, "well, my Bats just doesn't hang with THAT type of crowd. Not long term, anyway."

The Joker didn't know why he was telling the delectable billionaire these things. Anyone else who knew so much would be six feet under by now. There was just... *something* about the dark haired man. Something a part of the Joker wanted to reach out, shake, and pour all his secrets into. Make him listen. But for the life of him, the Joker could NOT figure out why.

As much as he wanted to jump up and run at his newfound freedom, Bruce knew it would be pointless. The man was faster than he gave him credit for. Besides that, his inner Bat was... curious.

He had heard the man weave his stories and deceitful narratives. The theatrical lies he spun to get the crowd going. To prepare himself for what he must do next. But this... was not one of those. This sounded... genuine. Not a word the Bat often associated with the mad clown.

He had to know.

He couldn't stop himself, he just had to stay to discover the truth.

"What do you mean...?" Bruce asked slowly, pushing himself to a sitting position, swinging his legs around so that it had been as if he had *properly* sat down and hadn't been shoved across the arm of it by the maniac before him.

Watching the billionaire warily, then confident in the fact that he wouldn't take off, Joker continued his pacing, "Well, this is, ah, a little embarrassing to admit. But, ah... I kinda want the Bats to... stick around. I want him to, er, *like* me."

Batman and Bruce were struck dumb.

The only word that could force it's way past frozen lips was a strangled, "Wha-WHY?"

"Call it an infatuation, if you will. Insanity, if you must. But I just. CANNOT. Get the Bats out of my head." The Joker looked truly frustrated then, pacing faster, gesturing wilder, "He's just... So... erm, *I* can't explain it. Now THAT'S sayin' somethin'. You know I can't sleep at night? Not anymore, no. That's when HE comes alive. All the crap I eat? Like ashes and dust. And I don't just eat garbage, mind you, er, no, no I don't." Joker paused midstride, finger to chin in thought, as though he were speculating aloud rather than revealing it all to his captive audience, "He's *changed* things. Not just for the mob, but for me... as well..."

This was bad.

So incredibly, unnervingly bad.

He could see clearly now, the bags under the unmasked Joker's eyes. How had he not caught it before?

Bruce hadn't a clue. Batman was even more confused.

"What... are you saying...?" Bruce cleared his throat, frightened of the answer. Terrified of its meaning. Afraid of what it would mean for the both of them. Thinking the Joker was just insane was easier. Was less... involved. But if this was anything like what Bruce himself was feeling, the mysterious, gut-clenching, feeling that rattled, -the feeling he blatantly ignored inside himself-... Well...

Joker smacked his lips, taking another step. Then stopping. Then taking another again, both times mouth slightly parted as if to start speaking again. But the man looked furious. About to pull his blonde hairs out by the roots, from the looks of it. He waved a hand in the air, standing still for a moment as he revealed, "Let's just say I've had a... ah... CHANGE in heart. The Bat he, eheh heh, has this unnerving way of tearing even the most well laid plans apart. You have no idea how, ugh, *frustrating* that is."

Bruce frowned harder, "Oh, I think I do..."

The billionaire HAD planned, after all, to lock the Dark Knight away. Permanently. But he was feeling less and less like it was his choice. If that was even an option, at this point.

At the billionaire's dry answer, Joker honed in on him once more. A thoughtful look coming over his face.

Joker frowned, taking a step closer, "Say Brucy, how ex-ac-T-ly do you *know* the Bat. He doesn't seem the, er, the type to hang in your social circle. Not that there's anything wrong with a bunch of Nancy boys talking about boring crap like money, but uh, do tell."

Bruce started, not prepared for the sudden shift in conversation, those hardened orbs focused on him once more. He let the gruff phrase slip, "Sorry. I don't kiss and tell..."

"IN-teresting choice of words." Joker grinned, voice pitching low, stepping even closer.

Bruce was already starting to his feet, not trusting the look in those blue eyes.

"How 'bout we jus' kiss *now*, and you can tell me later...?"

The inner Bat growled. The crazed clown was relentless.

"How about not." Bruce snapped, side stepping quickly to place the couch between them.

Joker cackled darkly, pausing at the front of the small barrier, taunting his prey with his piercing gaze. He traced those aquiline features with his burning gaze, memorizing every bone, every crease, every hollow. How that adam's apple bobbed slowly, the young billionaire nervous despite his growing rage. Would his Bats have such a nose, Joker wondered. Would he have such pristine cheekbones? Such a handsome countenance under that dark cowl?

He imagined if Bruce WAS his Bats, how *perfect* that would be. The man fighting to hide his darker nature from the clown. Struggling in vain to keep his composure. How wonderful it would be to remind him just how superbly Joker had made him cum in the restaurant. How tantalizing it had been to watch. It was one of his favorite fantasies. Next to the ecstasy-filled pleasure with his Bats at the hospital, of course. But if Bruce Wayne and his Bats were one and the same, he would cherish both. Jerk off, equally as hard, to both.

Bruce Wayne frowned. If one could taste lust, his tongue and pallet would be overloaded with it at the amount pouring from the Joker. The way those broad shoulders hunched, the Joker's very form tense, had Bruce's nerves on edge. The look in those blue eyes was nymphomania personified. He shuddered to *think* what perverse fantasies the man must have running through his head.

"Brucy, Brucy, Brucy..." Joker sighed darkly, "Must we always play hard to get?"

"I'm not trying to play ANYthing, Joker. What I WANT is for you to leave me. The hell. *Alone*." Bruce grated. How he wished he could be safe in his Kevlar and rage, punching the Joker with everything he had.

"That's funny," Joker quipped, licking his lips as he leaned on hands flat against the cushion, eyes focused solely on the bachelor on the other side of the couch, nasally voice smoothing out as it pitched lower, "'cause you see... what *I* want... is to FUCK your brains out. Now we're gonna have to come to *some* sort of compromise here..."

Bruce felt color rise to his cheeks at the Joker's blatant admittance. He felt his cock twitch at how the mad man was able to utter the word so sinfully well, made dirtier by the Joker's velvet rasp and riveted gaze.

"That is the LAST thing in the world I would want to have you do to me." Bruce glared fiercely, head tilted down, his inner Bat muscling forward in his moment of weakness.

"Ah, the lies... we... tell..." Joker started off strong, but trailed off. His head cocked to the side, frown in place. So familiar. Why was it all so familiar? He really had NOT met Bruce before that quick debut over at the GCPD ceremony. So what...? What was it about that glare, that tilt of the head, that sparked something in Joker's jumble of memories?

Bruce quickly realized his mistake. That was the pose he often struck with his cape and cowl on. He couldn't be doing that, unmasked, in front of the Joker! Clearing his throat into a clenched fist, an excuse that allowed him to change the tilt of his head, the billionaire forced his squared shoulders to relax and glanced back up at the Joker, "If you'll excuse me. I have a party to return to."

The Joker was busy frowning in contemplation. And Bruce was quick to make good in a hasty escape. He had just made it to the door when that nasally voice broke the silence, "It's only gonna get worse, you know..."

"Excuse me?" Bruce questioned, hand on the handle, but head turned to the side. He was safe, the Joker was still in front of the couch, a dozen paces away. He could tell by the sound of his voice. Though it thrummed with the heat of danger.

"A kiss. The kiss I want. If you, er, don't give it to me *now* it's only gonna get worse for you, heh heh, *later*..." Joker chuckled darkly.

"I think you'll find, that I am *not* a man to be easily intimidated, Mr. Joker." Bruce replied through a stiff jaw.

As he slipped through the door, he could hear the jester's parting words, "Oh I KNOW Brucy, that's what makes up half the *fun*..."

Bruce closed the door with a grimace. He didn't know what the Joker was planning, but it could not be good.

-o-o-o-

Bruce could feel those eyes burning into him, but he resolutely ignored it, as he had for the first half of the ball.

He refused to be cowed into leaving early, at a benefit clearly hosted in his honor. It almost made him want to take back his charitable donation.

Almost.

Wayne just fell back on his first plan.

To blatantly *ignore* the maniac and hope to dear heavens he would just LEAVE.

"-the stocks of Vayne Industries a good investment, Mr. Vayne?" The flirtatious red head questioned, batting her eyes at him. Her matching crimson dress was cut low in the front, threatening to expose her more feminine parts.

Glass delicately balanced between the curl of two fingers, Bruce leaned forward to dazzle her with a smile, "I believe you'll find my opinion to be a little bias, Ms. Janine. That being said, yes. Yes I do believe it is a good investment."

She laughed coyly behind her hand, green eyes gazing into his. But it was not with the same wonder as a certain pair of blues. Bruce shook his head to rid himself of that thought. Why would he even *think* of the Joker just then?

"You are funny, Mr. Vayne. They did not say you vould be." She smiled, her Russian accent thick as syrup.

"Who?" Bruce questioned with a soft smile.

Janine's eyes widened as she realized her slip up. Little did she know Bruce Wayne already knew *who* she spoke of. The circles of socialites scheming to get married to rich, successful men, in order to be set for life.

She was one of them.

He could always tell.

But she was quick to try to divert his attention, a sloppy patch up job that Bruce felt obligated to let her drag him through, "Come dance vith me, Mr. Vayne."

With a quick nod and a fake smile she didn't catch on to, Bruce allowed her to take him out to the floor.

He stood in place, among the throng of ladies and gentlemen on the dance floor. Waiting with an inward grimace for the band to start playing. How he hated these functions. These charades he was forced to play. He never felt anything for any of them. Not a single one.

And if he had the slightest inclination, he could take Janine home with him at any moment, to give her a night to brag about to her socialite peers. That was just the problem.

He didn't even feel the inclination. At all.

Why was he even dancing again?

Oh right, to avoid the Joker.

He turned to her, another fake smile in place, when it faltered in recognition of the man striding towards them.

Bruce grimaced.

Not exactly the wallflower he had been hoping for.

"Ex-squeeze me, honey cakes. But I'm gonna have to cut in. Not literally, er, un-for-tu-naTely, but figuratively." Joker stepped next to a flabbergasted redhead, the woman unable to decide whether to be insulted or taken aback at the rugged blonde's good looks.

She went with the former as she caught the slight frown forming on Bruce's face, her thick accent brimming with spite as she began, "How *dare* you-"

"Atatata, grown ups talking now, sweetie. Run along." Joker tried again, twirling as he caught her along his spin and gave her a gentle push in another direction.

The blonde turned back to the deeply frowning playboy, opening his mouth and raising a finger to speak.

But the Russian opened her big one first, "Who do you think you are?"

Bruce, as much as he would love any excuse to delay time spent alone with the Joker, knew she was treading dangerous waters. Could see it in the telltale frown creasing the man's eyes. Those icy blues turning stormy, though a smile was still affixed on his face.

He tried to step in, "Janine..."

Bruce shook his head once, eyes serious for the first time that night.

"No, Mr. Vayne, I vill not tolerate this-" She started to argue, her voice turning shrill.

But Joker shouldered in, a growl churning his voice as he muttered deeply, "Take a hike, toots. If you had an ounce of smarts in that pea-sized brain under all that hairspray, you would clearly see Bruce *Vayne* is. Not. In-ter-rested. In you."

She stood, gaping at the man. The danger she could see now clearly see lurking beneath the handsome blonde's facade struck her dumb. Like a slap in the face. Her instincts told her to run. This was not worth it. She glanced at Bruce, who looked grim as he shook his head once more, before turning and leaving in a huff, expensive heels clacking loudly against the ballroom floor.

"Yea, ta ta sweet cakes." Joker waved distastefully.

When he turned around it was to the iron grip on his arm, a furious Bruce growling lowly, "What. Do you think. You are doing?"

All traces of anger was wiped from Joker's face, the real grin back in place as he replied, "Oh, puh-lease, Brucy boy. You honestly think you were interested in... *that*? I swear there's a certain, erm, desperate odor around snobs like her. Did it stick? Is it on me?"

"You keeping tabs on my dates now?" Bruce's lips were pressed thin, his grip still solid.

Joker blinked. Clearly holding back from a guffaw of laughter as he glanced at the retreating redhead, then back at him. A small chuckle bubbled up as he snorted, "What? THAT was a date?"

"...It could have been." Bruce admitted reluctantly, releasing the man in favor of turning and attempting to leave.

"I think someone's in de-NIAL." Joker said in a singsong way.

Bruce made it four steps before an arm was curling around his waist, spinning him right back into the mad man. Bruce attempted to shove the man off, but Joker just held on tighter, other arm wrapping around to pin down any unruly upper limbs. When he realized he was well and truly stuck, unless he wanted to start a scene by head-butting the fiend and starting a tussle -something his inner Bat wasn't quite opposed to- Bruce quit moving to glare at the man.

Joker merely smirked. Licking his lips, he leaned forward, not minding at all that the billionaire in his hold leaned back, attempting to keep what little distance he could.

"You can't deny this, Brucy. You may play along with this playboy bachelor facade, but I, ah, know for a fact, that, heh, NO ONE makes you feel like *I* do. None of your glamour girls hooked pathetically on your arm, beaming for all the world to see 'cause they have THE Bruce Wayne struttin' 'em around. None of your boring old geezers that you talk your, ah, busi-ness with... NONE of them." Joker spoke with knowing, truth glinting from his yellow canines.

Instead of acknowledging it, or the rising heat from such close proximity, Bruce flexed his pinned arms, "You mind?"

"If I recall correctly -which I do, 'cause my, erm, memory is perfect- you were about to dance." Joker chided.

Bruce pulled back as much as he could, snapping, "Not with YOU..."

"What?" Joker frowned in thought, almost as if he were truly worried, "Is dancing too fast for a second date?"

"This is *not* a DATE." Bruce's fierce gaze could melt molten steel.

It just tickled the Joker.

The band started up. The soft trumpets and melodious chimes filled the decadent room with their splendor. Dancers began moving around them.

"Oh, here. We. Go." Joker cackled, releasing the playboy's arms in favor of taking one hand, the other still wrapped securely around his unwilling dance partner's waist.

Bruce tried planting his feet, but the Joker managed to botch that somehow, and Wayne -with great reluctance- danced along.

"Didn't realize the waltz was on your list of murderer-slash-psychopath credentials." Bruce muttered, disgruntled at being dragged along. Despite his jibe, he truly was surprised just how *well* the Joker knew the steps.

"Ah, well this is the least interesting in my arsenal of skills. Would you like to know some of my more *pleasurable* talents, Mr. Wayne?" His gloved hand at Bruce's waist slipped lower.

Bruce growled, quickly jerking the hand back upwards as he snapped, "I would thank you to keep your skills and talents to yourself, Joker."

Having the jester's hand on his waist was not his ideal place for the demented appendage, but it was certainly more favorable than having it grope his ass.

"Heh heh, that's NOT what it sounded like the other night..." Joker trailed, wetting his lips with an audible smack.

Bruce set his mouth in a thin line, refusing to speak as they continued to glide across the dance floor. He *could* explain the definition of rape, but he certainly didn't expect the Joker to listen. And he certainly did not feel he had the symptoms of a rape victim. He didn't *feel* like a victim at all.

What he felt, was an inexplicable tide of anger. All directed at the mad man currently waltzing with him. It seemed Joker was damn good at anything he put his mind to. It was just too bad his mind had to stray so much in Bruce's direction. Vigilante or no.

"You know, I *was* planning on watching you all night. But then I saw that slut drag you out to the dance floor and I just *had* to save you. Honestly, does everyone lack the simple ability to *read* people. You, erm, clearly did not wanna spend time with her, much less dance. Or fuck later on. At least not, eheh heh, with *her*." Joker drawled, hand tightening imperceptibly on Bruce's waist.

Bruce barely caught the motion.

But he started at the man's words, ignoring the crude ending part to question the beginning, brow arching incredulously, "So let me get this straight, you came out here to *save* me? Like you *saved* me on my last date?"

"Knew you had to be brighter than you looked." Joker gleamed, proud.

"I don't asked to be saved. Least of all by you, Joker." Bruce tugged once more, against the man. He actually managed to get one side free, attempting to step away.

Only for Joker to jerk the movement into a spin, twirling the billionaire back into his arms as he held him close enough to whisper, "No Brucy. Wrong again. You are practically *begging* for it."

Bruce's eyes demanded the words his lips would not say.

How?

Just what the hell was Joker talking about?

Bruce's fists itched to beat the answer out of the man. Realizing it was the Bat, attempting to shift this dance onto more familiar grounds, the playboy stilled the urge. Who knew what the psycho would do. How he would react. For all Bruce knew, it might even egg Joker on to screw him to the floor in front of all these people. Being seen dancing with the mystery man was fodder enough to pump up the rumor mill. He expected male propositions in less than a day, along with his usual female requests.

A dancing couple nearly barreled into them, though Joker had them scuttling away with a fierce glare and a snarled, "Do you MIND?"

They looked affronted, but shuffled away. Muttering to themselves as they pointedly looked away. Joker chuckled.

Bruce was baffled as the Joker transitioned from barely contained rage back to his darkly playful nature, attention back on the billionaire in his clutches.

"It's very simple, Brucy." Joker lowered the handsome bachelor into a backwards dip, taking his leisure to press against the man's well built form as he did so. The perfectly sculpted playboy was hanging on to his every word, ready to build an argument no matter what was said. He could see it in those burning mochas. Stubborn. Resilient. Perfect. Joker's eyes fluttered shut as he felt the intense caress, imagining a certain Kevlar imposing figure fixing him with the same, intent gaze. He shuddered in the small fantasy, opening his eyes to fix Bruce with a glimmering smirk, "You need me."

As Joker pulled Bruce back upright, swirling once more in motion to the slow rhythm of the dance, Joker was intrigued to find a fist wrinkling his lapels. A boring shade of grey, to fit in with the monotony of the Galla. His extravagant purple, while it WAS his favorite, just would not do in this atmosphere. Though he felt naked enough *without* his face on.

"Elaborate." Bruce demanded, eyes set in a serious frown. He couldn't believe he was indulging the maniac, but he was curious. Too curious for his own good, perhaps.

"You were born into this cozy and rich lifestyle, but it does not suit you, nor, ah... you, IT. These sycophants, slanderers and deceitful bags of wind, go against ev-er-Y-thing you believe in. You are above them. You just don't know it. And, erm, *I* happen to be the most inter-es-ting person you've ever come across. Heh heh, 'cause you see *I* can see through all the bull, and act accordingly. I don't fall whim to false pretenses. To social stigmas. To restrictions and labels that make the normal man quake in his boots. I do as I please and THAT *intrigues* you. You hate me so much, because *I* can do what you cannot."

"What?" Bruce gaze hardened, still unable to believe he was even *listening* to this nonsense, "Kill innocent people and blow up public property? Hardly the type of thing-"

"No." Joker cut him off with a sad smile, "You see, *I*. Am. FREE..."

Bruce stared at the man, pausing before stating, "I don't know what you're-"

The hand at his waist shifted to his upper back, tugging the billionaire close enough for Joker to whisper in his ear, "And... only *I* can set you FREE..."

"I am NOT caged." Bruce was stiff, with the Joker so close. The man was unpredictable. And for some reason the closer the man was, the more unpredictable the jester would become.

"Oh, but you *are* Brucy. You... ARE." Joker licked his own lips, the smacking sound louder with the blonde menace so close to his ear, "You... just, ah, don't realize it."

"I thought they said ignorance was bliss." Bruce tried to pull away.

But Joker jerked him back, growling in rising ire, "*No*. NO... Ignorance is for lazy suckers and pond scum. Not for you, no, definitely not. Otherwise you wouldn't have associated with the Bat."

At his own mention of his obsession, Joker clicked his tongue in cheek. Tracing the scars absentmindedly. Already he saw Bruce's eyes darkening at the look that lit up Joker's face. Grinning, Joker leaned in, "Saaaaayyy, how ex-ACT-ly do you get, er, a hold of the Bat? You got his number or somethin'? Oooh, or maybe even his address. I wouldn't mind comin' over and screwing his brains out in his own bed."

Bruce's face flushed darkly, "What makes you think I'd tell you after *that*?"

Joker's head cocked, preening as he questioned, "What, Brucy...? *Jealous*?"

"W-what? NO." Bruce managed a face of revulsion over his inner Bat's darker pondering, finally managing to tear away from the man.

Joker merely snickered, allowing the frazzled man to get away this time. The symphony was over anyway, and he had plans of sorts, for later on. He could bide his time until then.

Bruce turned quickly, fists clenching and unclenching as he strode away. He couldn't think clearly. Think straight. Not with that mad clown filling his senses. Using every advantage to *touch* him. Press against him. Remind him *exactly* how that lithe, powerful body would like to USE his.

He wasn't planning on stopping.

But then Joker's voice asked, over the small din of the crowd, "Who's Alfred...?"

Bruce froze.

Gut churning, he turned.

And standing in the middle of the dance floor, was the Joker, busy hunched over a tiny object in his dangerous hands. The black gleam of a familiar blackberry. The cold of ice down the billionaire's spine.

Bruce felt his breath stop, strangled in his throat.

He didn't need to pat down his pockets. He KNEW whose phone that was.

"Excuse me, pardon me." Bruce said as he stepped through and around the clutter of people between them. Making his way *back* into the madness. Trying to get to the Joker before he discovered more damning evidence.

"Not a lot of phone calls on this thing, but my does, erm, ALFRED, show up a lot in the call history..." Joker mused aloud.

Bruce barely kept from bowling over the remaining guests between him and the mad man, finally reaching him as he gave a barely uttered growl, "GIVE me that."

Surprisingly, his hand did manage to grasp the cell, but the Joker's other hand clasped over his in a tight grip before he could pull away.

That crazed madness lurked in that hardened blue gaze, Bruce matching glare for glare as the Joker growled deeply, accusingly, "Is he your *BOYfriend*?"

Disgust blinked in those narrowed browns as Bruce snapped, "He's like a father to me..."

"Oh." And with that, Joker was back to his crazed contentment, releasing the playboy once more.

Bruce looked down at his cell, feeling it was contaminated, as the Joker pranced away. A merry, "Enjoy the party, Brucy." thrown over his shoulder as he skipped along.

At unease at how the man let him slip away, unscathed, Bruce fought the urge to follow him as Joker disappeared into the crowd of guests.

That couldn't be it, could it?

Things with the Joker were never simple.

Bruce headed over to the serving table at the other end of the room, wishing sorely that he was a true, drinking man. But other than the occasional glass here and there, he never truly got himself well and blissfully hammered. Too many chances to slip up. He liked to retain a measure of control, at all times. Perhaps that's why the Joker got to him so well. He was always yanking that rug out from under him, making him question. Making him stumble.

Laughing while he did so.

With a hearty exhale, he swiped a glass of something fizzy from a passing server, downing it in one, throat burning swallow.

"What was that about?" Gordon's voice filtered past Bruce's film of irritation and self-doubt.

Setting the empty glass down, Bruce wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the words coming out harsher than he intended, "Don't ask."

His hand burned. The one the Joker had clasped when questioning him. The same that he'd been holding while they... danced. Bruce flexed his fingers, trying to shake it out. That strange warmth that was the Joker.

Gordon held his hands up in surrender, "Not my business. Got it."

"Sorry Gordon," Bruce mustered up an apologetic smile, "it's really... not my night tonight."

"I can see that, son." Gordon speculated, fixing his glasses higher up on his nose, "Why don't you call it in early? No one would blame you. I did kind of spring this on you last minute, after all."

"No, Gordon." Bruce went for a wider grin, "This must've taken some effort on your part. The least I can do is see it to the end."

The Commissioner smiled, "Another glass, then?"

But Bruce declined, "No thank you, I don't feel up to drinking too much tonight."

"Suit yourself." Gordon replied with a shrug, downing his own glass.

-o-o-o-

Bruce felt his nerves crawling. Twitching. He had been on edge all afternoon and late into the evening, waiting for the Joker to show up. Hopefully it was dark enough that he was out, searching for the Bat. Another thing he wasn't looking forward to.

Bruce grimaced.

Why did the Joker hang around so much? Could what the madman's revealing words be true. Could *he* have captured the heart of darkness? Well he didn't want it. Couldn't handle it.

Bruce Wayne could face the media, the clambering journalists, the outraged public. Batman could take the criminals, the cops, and everything else.

But he couldn't take THIS.

Whatever *this* was...

A small smile lit his face as the limousine pulled up along the curb. That had been the longest ball of his life. And he couldn't wait to go home and...

His smile faltered.

And what? Alfred wasn't home. He barely donned the Bat suit anymore, at least, not as often as he had before this whole... debacle.

He just... wanted to go.

He walked up to the limo before it stopped completely, pulling open the back door before the driver could come out and open it for him. The last thing he wanted was trivial courtesies.

And the absolute LAST thing he expected was for gloved hands to reach out of the back seat, fisting the front of his dress coat, yanking him inside with a familiar scratchy snarl, "C'mer, HOT stuff."

Bruce could make out the squeal of the limo pealing away from the hotel, the hard thud of the door slamming behind him, and the feel of strong hands even as he landed roughly inside, on top of somebody in the dim interior.

"Time for some, erm, *disciplinary* action." The painted face cackled beneath Bruce.

Bruce eyes widened, slugging the Joker across the face to let him go as he turned to reach for the door.

But the Joker grabbed him and threw him along the long leathered side seat of the limo's interior, hooting maniacally as he corrected, "Not from *you*, heh eheh, Brucy! From. ME." The last word dipped dangerously low, that primal voice Joker reserved for the most serious of situations.

Bruce felt hands fumbling with his belt, whipping the strap of leather away with a loud crack. As his pants were being tugged down, he kicked blindly. It was so hard to see in the dim lighting. That and his panic was starting to take over. His mastery of his own fear thrown to the wind in the face of this new taste of danger.

It was overwhelming.

Intoxicating.

And it was purely Joker.

Joker cackled, catching the foot meant for his face, and using it to easily tug the pants all the way off. Leaving a delectably wide eyed billionaire sprawled along the seat in his boxers. He had to do this fast, before the playboy could recover enough to put up a *real* fight. And as fun as those were, that wasn't quite the agenda Joker had planned.

"Atatata ta, *eager* are we?" Joker purred, ripping off the last line of the man's defense, dangling the boxers winningly, before tossing them over his shoulder. He drank in the muddled, slowly building fury clearing in those panic-stricken eyes.

Mmm, a dose of billionaire was *just* what he needed to start his night prowling off on the right foot.

"Joker! You can't- gah!" Bruce arched at the unexpected, wet, intrusion. It had been without warning. Without foresight. And the tongue in his ass sent a shot of electric pleasure up his spine.

"Joker!" Bruce tried again, the name strangled as he arched and writhed under the skillfully applied ministrations.

Joker loved it. Loved the way the man said his name. It was not as deep as the Bat's guttural snarl, but it was delicious all the same.

He nestled in deeper, further, nudging Bruce's thighs around his shoulders, pressing his tongue into the innocent depths with more fervor.

Bruce Wayne whimpered, dissolved into a bucking, writhing mess.

"Joker, stop!" He pleaded, meaning for the words to come out as a command, but unable to put the force behind it as he had intended.

He gave a sobbed moan, the feeling of the tongue inside too much. From the Joker. It was all too much.

Joker slurped maniacally, drinking in the gasps and groans like sweet drops of candy. The man was always so stubborn. Always fighting him. To have him such a moaning wreck spread before was as tantalizing as the predawn tryst he had the Bat plowing into him at Gotham East. But the way the man was keening, arching, it was... curious.

Reluctantly, Joker pulled back from that heated entrance, licking his lips as he questioned in a tone warped with lust, "Don't tell me Brucy... you've never been...?"

Bruce fought through the haze of pleasure, limbs shaking as he pushed himself up to glare at the crazed jester, "J-joker, you'd better stop before-"

"Oho ho ho, this is just too good to be true! My Brucy has never been with a man. My my it *is* your lucky night. And MINE. Eheh heh heh..." Joker's hands gripped those silky thighs hard enough to bruise, trembling minutely with barely constrained lust and pleasure. Joker smacked his lips, blowing heated air against Bruce's clenching hole, promising with a bittersweet darkness, "Don't worry, Brucy boy, I'll make it, erm, SPECIAL..."

"I don't want ANYthing from you- ah!" Bruce gasped, throwing his head back against the leathers, fingers that itched to strangle the man gripping the seat instead as the dexterous tongue plunged back in to rock his world.

If he had any question as to what 'punishment' Joker had in mind, it was quickly obliterated, Bruce left grasping at thin threads of control. Trying to get a hand of the situation spiraling away from his fingertips.

This couldn't be happening. He was supposed to be heading home. For a relatively boring night of research. On his never ending quest to end the outings as the Dark Knight.

But instead he was trapped. Here. In the greedy hands of the mad jester.

"Joker. *Please*..." Bruce keened, hips arching, unable to stop from bucking, that determined tongue striving to trace his insides, wrenching every shuddering gasp from him that it could.

His pleading had the exact opposite effect he had been hoping for. The Joker putting more gusto in his actions. Sweat broke out on that flawless skin. Or at least it looked flawless in the dark interior of the hijacked limousine. It certainly *felt* perfectly sculpted under Joker's restraining hands.

And then that tricky pink appendage hit *that* spot and the wound up Bruce was arcing hard, straining as he came, harder than he ever had without direct stimulation to his spurting shaft.

He was boneless. And panting like he had run a marathon.

But as his glazed eyes fell on the trickster, he realized it wasn't over yet.

Spitting into his hand, Joker scooped up some of the sticky whiteness and lathered his own glistening manhood.

"Didn't think you were getting off *that* easily, didja Brucy?" Joker lined himself up, feeling the beginnings of the billionaire attempting to move. To fight. To struggle. But Joker grinned, "Time to pay the piper..."

And with one hard thrust, he was in.

And it. Felt. Glorious.

"J-joker!" Bruce's voice was tight, as constricting as the muscles that clenched around the large cock rammed inside.

The clown's grip was like steel, face contorted in bliss as he paused. Relishing the moment. The feel of that velvet heat around his aching organ.

"Ugh... perfect..." Joker breathed wordlessly.

He should've prepared the young billionaire more. He could see the pain in the darker haired man's features. But he couldn't help myself. Besides the Bat, Bruce Wayne was the only other person Joker just could not resist. It was a delicious heat that curled inside. And Joker wanted MORE.

"No..." Bruce moaned, feeling Joker pulling out slowly, knowing what was coming next, "N-no don't -Ah!"

Joker plunged back inside. Deeper, if that was possible. He grunted in pure heaven.

"Hush Shh Shh Shh, Brucy. Joker'll make it FEEL better in a moment..."

"Joker..." Bruce whimpered, in part rage and part exhaustion, as the man took his soft cock in his dexterous hand.

"That's right... say my name, Brucy." Joker felt himself pulse harder inside. Oh how he needed this. Wanted this.

So bad.

It was like a beautiful dream.

One he never wanted to wake from.

He wanted to shove his aching rod into the Bats, but he hadn't done so in the hospital. Though he could have. Yes. But he wanted there to be no restraints. Nothing to keep the Bats down. He would fight him. Tooth and nail. And it would make it THAT much sweeter to force the Dark Knight to *submit*.

"Oh Brucy..." Joker groaned, pumping the man in time with his thrusts, keeping it slow. Deep. Allowing the man the luxury of getting acquainted with the new fullness. The hardness driving deep in his core, the Joker hilting *every* time. Joker growled, "You *are* a nice piece of, mmm, ass. But I would love nothing more... than to fuck my Bats. Shove this dick in him 'till he can't take no more. Hope you don't take it personal."

His inner Bat growled at the thought. He wouldn't let the man dominate him like that.

Couldn't.

Not with the suit. The cape and cowl. He was more than what he was as Bruce Wayne. When he was Batman, he was a symbol. He couldn't let Joker taint that.

"Ngh," Bruce scrambled hands against the cushions, shaking his head, "He would, gah, NEVER."

"Mm, never is such a... misleading word. Betcha thought you would *never* be fucked by me."

"This, ah, is *different*..."

"NO. *No*... it's. NoT." Joker's tongue clicked on the last syllable, showing the first tremor of anger since the last time.

Joker shoved in deeper. Harder. And Bruce cried out loudly, back arcing. His tailored suit bunched up behind his back as he slid backwards along the seat, the thrust pushing him away from the rapturous heat of the clown's body.

Bruce's trembling fingers grabbed the edges of the seat, attempting to get away. Pull his vulnerable body away from the depraved maniac. But the Joker was prepared for that.

His gloved hands gripped muscled thighs harder, jerking the dark haired man back towards him even as he rammed his hardened shaft forward. He reveled in the shout of ecstasy pried from billionaire lips, body taut underneath him. The man was so... flexible. It was delicious.

"Atatata, not trying to get away, are we Brucy? Heh eheh, let's see how you do against THIS." Joker spread those quaking legs further apart, releasing Bruce's cock in the process and bending the man's pliant body a little more as he plunged eagerly back in. He hit that *spot* and the billionaire shook uncontrollably, insides clenching as he came hard, the second time that night.

Joker nearly came himself, that velvet heat tightening around him. But he held off, watching the arousing display of emotions as the man beneath him unraveled, face contorted in pleasured anger as he shot his load between them.

Bruce's chest was heaving, pleasure and exhaustion weighing down his limbs. But the relentless bastard was at it again. He hadn't cum once. And Bruce's own cock, sensitized by the the orgasms, twitched at the friction between their bodies. His ass, relaxed enough to allow the Joker easy passage, brought shuddering jolts of electricity and heat down his curved spine at the talented cock shoving ruthlessly inside. The pleasure was too much.

"No... Ngh, no more, Joker." Bruce rasped, head lolling back, eyes clenched shut to fight the forced ministrations.

"No, Brucy." Joker grunted, erection straining full and hard, slamming into the man again and again and again, "I won't stop until I come hard inside you, mm. You will *never* be fucked this good by anyone else. My cock is deep now, you will NEVER forget the feel of it, shoving hard inside you. And you. Will never. LIE. To me. AGAIN."

There were no more words after that. Just the sound of flesh pounding on flesh. The feel of Joker's insistent meat riding Bruce raw.

Bruce arced, and moaned, and shook. His own cock stiffening once more. The Joker was relentless. Driven. And he plowed that ass like the world was ending.

In a way, Batman's was falling apart. Piece, by pleasure jolting piece. The Joker was ramming into him hard. And it felt *good*. He shook his head in denial, but quivered and moaned all the same. He even found his traitorous hips jerking upwards to meet each brutal thrust downwards.

Joker had found the coiled bunch of nerves, ramming into it each time. Making Bruce quake and tremble.

"Joker... Joker..." Bruce gasped.

This couldn't be happening. But it was. With each thrust the Joker claimed the man beneath him. Each ripple of muscle and sinful grunt, he made Bruce his.

As if to affirm it, Joker grunted in a soft snarl, "Mine. Mine. MY Bruce."

Bruce keened and arched and mewled. Slowly unraveling. His shaft hot and hard once more.

Joker snarled and pounded into that tight ass, loving every second of it. It was close. The pinnacle. The breaking point. And Joker was more than ready for it.

"Brucy." He murmured, hips not stopping their surging force.

Those eyes were still shut tight.

"BRUCY..." Joker growled, insistent.

Those beautiful eyes pried open, accusing brown clouded in a turmoil of lust and rage.

"Scream for me..." Joker grunted.

Despite the wrongness of it, despite his adamant denial and anger, Bruce did, his earth shaking as that insatiable cock pushed him over a third time that night, "Ngh! Ah! JOKER!"

That was all the Joker needed for his own release.

He rammed hard into that perfect ass, thighs slapping thighs, cock inserted to the hilt. His hands gripped those playboy thighs hard enough to bruise, ensuring the other wasn't going anywhere as he emptied his long awaited load into its beautiful container.

The clown ejaculated deep inside that unbearable heat at the same moment Bruce's splashed between their chests, their climaxes one and the same.

There was only one other person who could feel better under him. One person that Joker desired to take in such a fashion. Rough. Relentless. Insurmountable.

But Bruce was a hell of a good lay himself.

Bruce Wayne was speechless. Batman was... furious. But he really didn't have the extra energy to get up and slug the clown good for what he just did. He would make him pay.

Er, later...

And as the billionaire, boneless and weary, dropped sluggishly to the bliss of sleep, he heard the sound of the Joker.

Chuckling softly to his heart's content.

-o-o-o-

Bruce woke on the steps to his mansion, wincing as he stood. The pain originated in his lower extremities. And he KNEW he was gonna have to take a couple nights off as the Bat.

As he hurried inside to shower, to clean the hot stickiness from under his suit, Bruce's eye caught something in the mirror. Something written in red on his ass.

Xoxo -Joker

"Sick, deprived maniac..." Bruce muttered aloud, angry.

But who was he more mad at? The Joker for pulling such a stunt? Or himself for possibly having enjoyed it?

With a fury he couldn't begin to explain, he jumped in the shower and scrubbed until the words were gone. And his skin gleamed pink.

But it couldn't take away the taint the Joker had left on his soul.

Then again, he couldn't argue that when he fell asleep, it was the first time in years he had ever felt truly rested.

Almost... content. 


	8. Just a taste

More YouTube vids:

Always | Batman (Bruce Wayne) Joker SLASH - by Cruciatusmaximus

Pain - The Joker (The Dark Knight) - by skyeswe95

A/N: Now onto the next chapter

-o-o-o-

The sound of police dogs and shouting officers rose above his booted feet pounding the pavement. Batman didn't have to turn to look. They were gaining on him. He reached a dead end.

He aimed his grappling gun, pulling the trigger, only to hear a harsh click that sent a surge of ice down his spine.

Jammed.

Fuck!

He turned wearily to face the inevitable. He wouldn't kill them. No. He couldn't. But he would fight to stop them from taking him in. He grimaced. While there were still a few corrupt in the ranks of the force, most were just good men and women. Doing their duty for the city, as he was. And he always felt each delivered kick and punch, as though he was the one being hit.

That's when a loud clang of a fire escape ladder greeted him, making contact with wet pavement. A hissed, "C'mon Batsy!" from his upper right.

Batman froze as he heard the voice, jerked pointed cowl to see the painted man, up on the first flat landing of the fire escape. The voice from nights before ringing in his ears.

C'mon HOT stuff.

He shuddered, pausing in hesitation. Simultaneously his anger spiked, chest rumbling with an unvoiced growl.

"This way, Bats!" Joker snarked, waving impatiently upwards, "I know you're not blind AND deaf!"

Bruce Wayne paled at the thought of trusting the Joker, and Batman raged at it. But the Dark Knight shoved his feelings aside.

What other choice did he have? The Joker offered a way out. He would just have to deal with the other later.

With a muted growl, Batman whipped his cape and followed the menace up to safety.

A police man pelted down the alley, "Halt!"

Joker turned his attention, whipping out a dagger and aiming for the head of the approaching do-gooder. No. Joker had worked too hard for the men in blue to cart his Bats away.

He wouldn't let them.

Batman spotted the movement almost too late, busy clambering up the ladder, the blade glinting wickedly in the darkness.

"Joker!" Batman growled, cutting through the red, bloodthirsty veil in those crazed eyes. He saw a flash of stubborn retaliation in those black rimmed orbs.

Joker barely registered the shout. They were coming after HIS Bat. Trying to take him away!

But Joker took note of the harsh gaze under that darkened cowl. The Bat would *never* forgive him if...

Joker's snarl was audible, fighting with in his inner demons that called for the officer's blood.

With a forced jerk, Joker readjusted his aim, letting the dagger fly. Instead of a kill shot, it stuck in the man's boot, making the cop cry out in pain. But stopping him all the same.

"Joker..." Batman rasped angrily as he reached the landing the painted menace was on, pushing himself up from the top rung with measured control. He wanted to hit the man. So bad. Not just for the officer. But for himself. For that night he had taken oh so many liberties. The fact that it had felt good had nothing to do with it. Not if Batman had a say in it.

Joker felt the minute tremblings in his own skin, glancing at the hand that had let the knife fly. It had been... *hard* to fight his murdering instincts. But he shivered, then straightened, like a junky refusing his fix. The shadow of the Bat rolled over him as the vigilante drew closer, like a soothing balm to his crazed urges, calming him.

"Oh come ON Batsy. Don't get your panties in a wad. He's *not* dead, is he? If anything, I just gave him a shot at a shiny new medal." Joker rolled his eyes, grinning in the next breath.

With a scowl and an angry shake of his head, Batman continued upwards. No longer ladders, but grated steps. The Bat was cool. Calm. Collected. But the Jester detected the faint trembling of rage. But the Bats *hadn't* HIT him. It was a start. Joker watched gleefully, before prancing up after him.

After a moment, he asked, "Saaay, are you *limping* Batman? Why are you walking like, er, that?"

"Dog." Bruce lied, "BIG dog."

"You're not very dog friendly, are ya Bats?"

"But I seem to attract them all the same. Even the rabid ones..." Batman growled, throwing a pointed glare over his shoulder. He *knew* why Joker was letting him up first. No doubt taking the time to stare at his ass.

Joker cackled, shrugged, and followed the man to the rooftops.

He would follow him anywhere, actually. As long as the Bats would let him.

-o-o-o-

"You know, it's not easy being a super villain. NOT that that's the reason I, er, have suspended my life of crime, per say. I would just like to point out there's just as much work bein' a criminal than a hero. Maybe even more." Joker pondered aloud, legs swinging as he casually sat on the ledge of an at least 50 story plummet, glancing over at the still form of the Bat. The dark figure was just standing, stock still on the corner of it, one hand to the side of his head as if listening to something Joker couldn't hear.

Joker rolled his eyes.

And *they* said HE was crazy.

Seeing as how the Bat had yet to respond, Joker continued his one-sided musings, "We, of the criminal element, are *very* underrated. Not taken seriously unless we pose a threat. And there are so many threats-"

"Not true." Batman mumbled.

"What was that?" Joker quickly latched on, giddy his Bats *had* been listening after all.

Batman paused. He hadn't meant to let on that his ears were focused on anything besides the electronic murmur, his mind wandering to the lull of the Joker's voice even as he sorted through the jumble of radio chatter in his headphones. Nothing else interesting had come up so far.

And he was already caught.

Turning his head to the side ever-so-slightly, throwing the Joker a sidelong glare, before admitting, "You were the only one that gave me any real trouble."

Then Batman faced forward, stoic once more.

But Joker was humming in pleasure, smile lighting up his features.

It almost tugged a grin on Bruce's face under the mask, though he continued to pretend to focus only on the city spread before him. A delusional maniac the Joker may be, but underneath all the... crazy... there was a beating heart somewhere.

Joker was too busy preening himself to notice the Bat's facial struggle.

HE had been the Bat's only real challenge.

"I see..." Joker trailed, not minding at all that his Bats went back to ignoring him. He was, after all, allowing him to stay. Perhaps an actual show of gratitude for Joker getting him out of that police jam earlier.

Joker hadn't even had to ASK. The Bat just glared at him once, then let him be.

After a few more minutes stretched by, Joker twiddled his thumbs before admitting with a sigh, "I have a... ah, *confession* to make."

Batman turned, quick enough to startle the Joker, who seemed more nervous than usual. Under his Kevlar mask, his brow arched.

This was new.

The Joker. Nervous?

Joker began slowly, hesitantly, "I, ah, visited your friend Brucy a few nights ago-"

"I know." Batman bit harshly, devil horns pointed dangerously forward.

"Yeeaaahh... about that, uh," Joker cackled half-heartedly, "I think he might be a bit, erm, *sore* at me... I tried calling a couple times-"

Batman almost scoffed. About two dozen at least, before he stopped counting. And that was just the morning after.

"-to apologize, but I, uh, think he switched his number. I don't want there to be any hard feelings. And, erm, I *don't* think he ex-act-LY wants to *see* me any time soon, so you, ah, think you can give him a message from me?"

Batman felt his jaw muscles slacken, but had enough control not to let it drop. There had to be an ulterior motive. The Joker couldn't *really* feel bad.

"Why'd you do it?" Batman's graveled voice, hammered down the silence between them. Needed to know before he'd even *think* about what message the Joker wanted to relay.

"Uh, 'cause I had to." Joker said with a 'duh' tone to his witty retort.

"Not good enough."

"Look, Bats. I HAD to. Brucy boy had to learn that I am NOT one to keep secrets from." Joker explained patiently.

"So... you molested the man." Batman said with stark disapproval.

"No, I FUCKED him." Joker clarified, and smugly added, "And he, erm, *liked* it. I could tell."

Batman growled dangerously.

Joker raised his hands in surrender, "Okay. Okay. Maybe that was a little far. I do tend to get a little, heh, *carried* away."

"You're lucky he didn't press charges."

"Ooh scary."

Joker had multiple counts of arceny, theft, and homicides that would make a lifetime criminal go green with envy. But Batman wasn't finished.

"Or that I didn't beat you to an inch of your life for it."

"NOW we're talkin'."

"And then disappear again."

There was a flash of some unbidden emotion on the painted man's face. He actually paused in whatever witty retort he had lined up and ready to fire. It almost seemed like his tense excitement deflated, those eyes going cold. Joker frowned, "Okay THAT...That's not funny."

"Really." Batman deadpanned, "I thought it was hilarious."

Joker shifted in his seat, what once would have sent him into a red veiled rage of knives and gnashing teeth, merely had him looking away as he muttered, "And I, er, thought MY jokes were bad."

The Joker was the picture of misery, frown marring his painted features as he kicked his heels dejectedly against the ledge, slumping.

Batman felt a smirk sneak up on his normally hard features.

Strange as it was, he found it... cute.

The man was an arsonist. A murderer. A thief. A psychopathic genius. And the thought of BATMAN up and leaving...

THAT's what got that trademark grin to disappear?

Unfortunately, Joker chose that moment to peak over.

His nasally voice was hushed, as though anything louder would blow away the evidence, "Is... is *that* a SMILE on your face?"

Batman's grin dropped, hard once more as he replied gruffly, "No."

"Yes it was." Joker snickered, "Aw, I made my Batsy *smile*."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Batman turned with a hardened exhale, listening more intently to the radio chatter on his earpiece. Busy *not* looking at the Joker.

Even turned away, he could practically *feel* the Joker beaming in delight. No matter what he said, the Joker had caught him. And the jester knew it.

Lord, just *another* thing for the mad clown to hold over him.

Suddenly Batman heard something over the police chatter. A robbery. And no available units to get to the scene.

Perfect.

Batman took a step closer to the edge, readying his arms.

"What about me?" Joker whined, up and at Bat's side before the Dark Knight could blink.

Bruce grimaced.

He could just take off. Not even mention where. He didn't even have an obligation to.

Not... really.

True to his word, Fox had made the necessary modifications to the memory cloth to allow for additional weight. It would detach the cape after locking it in place, freeing his arms to ensure any extra person wouldn't die from a horrible plummet to the ground, almost like a hang glider. But the LAST thing he wanted was the Joker wrapped around him that close as he glided, bodies pressed together. Inner Bruce shuddered. His ass was still sore from the healthy pounding the clown had given him nights before. He had not forgiven him for that. The fact that the Joker was even HERE on the rooftop with him was 'cause he had helped him out when his own equipment failed him.

Joker watched him intently, waiting for a response.

"5th and Williams, it's not that far from here." Bat said gruffly.

Then he jumped.

Joker watched him go, glum. But he couldn't help admiring the fearless grace with how his Bat leaped into oblivion.

He hadn't expected a ride. Not from the Dark Knight.

But it didn't stop the disappointment flooding through him. He frowned as he made his own way down, heading back to the rooftop entrance.

"Stubborn kill joy..." Joker muttered.

The night wind rushing around his armored form, Batman's sensitive earpiece still caught those uttered words, his frown creasing. Honestly, what did the Joker expect? That the Dark Knight would welcome him with open arms? He still remembered what Joker did. What he was. WHO he was. Good behavior or not, the man was still a criminal mastermind.

Unpredictable.

Undependable.

Yet he had saved him.

Twice now.

Batman was so distracted, he started when he realized the ground was rushing up at him. Spreading his fingertips, the Dark Knight braced himself for when the memory cloth pulled taut, molecules aligning to the programed frame of bat wings.

Fuck, the pavement!

He pulled up as quick as he could, so close he nearly brushed the top of speeding cars, alarmed honks filling the street.

That was close. Too close.

In his line of work, Batman couldn't afford distractions. And Joker was nothing but a big, painted distraction.

Why had he told the Joker where he was going?

Remembering the sullen look about the Joker, a dramatic shift from his usual persona, Batman huffed.

Well, why not?

The Joker was... relatively harmless.

At least for now.

-o-o-o-

"For the last time," Batman grumbled, "I did NOT need your help."

He carelessly dragged the three unconscious would-be bank robbers behind him, all tied together with some special rope Fox had been kind enough to make for him. Of the unbreakable, titanium weave variety.

"But Batsy, ALL I did was scare 'em a little..." Joker chuckled.

"I hardly think a bazooka-"

"Fake bazooka." Joker interjected.

Batman corrected with a sigh of irritation, "-a *fake* bazooka, was really necessary-"

"Oh c'mon Batsy! It had confetti inside! And glitter. It was a riot." Joker's grin split widely across his painted face, hands behind his back, rocking on his heels as he watched the Bat work.

Batman heaved the criminals against a lamppost not too far away, pausing to glare up at the man, hunched over as he was, "And the chainsaw? What was the point of that?"

His voice was stern. Unyielding.

"You didn't let me use it *last* time." Joker explained patiently, deflecting the Bat glare with a clown smile, "Besides, it ONLY minced up one of their jackets real nicely. Didn't even make any bloody splatters-"

"Because I TOOK it away from you before you could do any *real* damage." Batman reminded harshly through clenched teeth, glaring up at the pacing man before inspecting his knots.

"Ah, heh eheh, about that... Ummm, think I can have it ba-"

"No." Batman didn't even glance up from his work.

Joker frowned, "You're a real stinker, you know that? Like bat guano."

Batman shook his head, letting a little chuckle slip through. Then he froze. He must be losing his mind. Should he be letting his guard down, considering who this man was? Considering what he has done?

Taking out his rappel gun, he aimed for the nearest building, fired, and hooked it into his belt in one smooth motion. The picture of serenity. Of control. Though he was anything but fine inside.

"I heard that, you know..." Joker muttered, not even able to fully enjoy the slipped chuckle as he watched the Bat about to flee with clenched breath. He knew why his Bats was running. Knew why he was so afraid. But it didn't stop Joker's own sense of hysteria. But the Bat wouldn't leave. Not permanently.

Not so soon.

He couldn't...

Right?

"No, you didn't." Batman muttered in response, seconds before he was yanked away, upwards into the blanketed darkness of the skylit rooftops.

Joker was left standing in the street lights, scowling at the unconscious goons tied up next to him, then back up where he had last seen the vigilante disappear to. He kicked them for good measure, extracting a small measure of satisfaction as he heard a pained groan.

"Now what's it take to get through a thick skull like the Bat?" Joker sighed in exasperation, arms flopping uselessly as he gestured all around him at the empty streets. "Any takers? Any at all, hmm?"

Down the street, a lamppost -damaged earlier by Joker's rambunctious 'helping' out- creaked in protest. Sparks flew into a puddle below, a rat scurried quickly.

But none answered the burning question.

Joker's face fell.

"Of. Course noT..." His tongue clicked.

-o-o-o-

Bruce Wayne was, against his better judgement, dining out for brunch. But the pent house was emptier than ever and it was Alfred's idea to get some fresh air as the billionaire instead of the bat. He distinctly remembered what happened the *last* time he did that and he distinctly remembered the encounter he didn't FULLY go into detail with the Brit.

He remembered that conversation as well.

"You want me to kill him for you sir?" Overprotectiveness practically poured through the line.

"N-no Alfred. I don't want you to-"

"'Cos I *could* DO it, sir. Just give me the green light and I'll-"

"Alfred."

"-march right over there-"

"ALfred."

"-and kill 'im dead for you, sir. Flatter than a pancake. It's been a while since I've made a man bleed. But I'm sure it's just like riding a bike, eh?"

"There's no need to kill him, Alfred."

"Alfred, stop trying to make an earlier reservation to fly back. I'm FINE."

"Well, you bloody well better BE fine, Master Wayne. 'Cos if you're not in one piece by the time I get back, there will be hell ta pay sir."

Wayne chuckled at the memory. To think it had only been earlier that morning.

He took another bite of his fruit tart, the chocolate-flaked crust crumbling decadently onto his tongue as the grape and kiwi burst with flavor, before he dropped it with a sigh. Who was he kidding himself? No amount of sugary pastry in the world could cover the truth.

Bruce Wayne had no real life outside of Batman.

Outside of his playboy visage.

With Alfred away, he really had no true friends.

He glared down at the fruit tart accusingly.

Then stood up from the table to leave.

Only...

...to see the JOKER waltzing in the front doors.

Bruce did an abrupt face and made a beeline for the bathroom. A steady mantra of, don't see me, don'tseeme, please dear god don't see me, pounding in his head.

He ducked quickly into the restroom, the doors swinging shut as slowly as possible behind him. His steps didn't slow until he reached the farthest stall.

No sooner had he locked his marble door did he hear the bathroom doors burst open.

"Had to go that bad, Brucy? Maybe you should check with your physician. Can't be, erm, good for your health, holding it in like that." Joker's whimsical voice echoed in the empty restroom.

Bruce cursed under his breath.

That was it.

God hated him.

Crossing his arms, Bruce sighed, "How do you keep finding me, Joker?"

He glared at the door, tracking the footsteps to it, as the Joker leaned against it, "Well, ya see, Brucy... the uh, funny thing about bein' a rich stud, is the relative ease to spot one of your more, heh heh, *lavish* styles of transportation parked among the old mom and pop's versions out there."

Bruce was on the alert, taking a step forward though the other couldn't see it through the door, "What did you do to my bike?"

"Woah pretty boy," He could hear the jester throwing his hands in the air innocently, "I didn't smudge your precious ride, don't worry sweet cakes."

Bruce hedged, "Don't call me that. And... whaddaya want?"

"Why... uh... to hang out." Joker said simply, kind of with a 'duh' overtone. He paused, kind of hesitant as he hunched, "I mean, ah, you... DID get the message from the, erm, Batman. From me...? Right? Tell me you got it."

Irked, Bruce slammed the door open, glare set in his features.

Joker had barely hopped out of the way, grinning as he announced, "*There* he is!"

"Getting a *message*..." Bruce glared pointedly, stalking over to the sink to wash his hands -who knows who touched that door- as he continued burning holes into the mirror, "is NOT the same thing as an actual apology."

Twiddling his thumbs in the corner, Joker looked upwards as he shrugged, "Uhhhhh... sure it is."

"No." Bruce frowned, vigorously washing his hands in an attempt to rid his sudden increase in anxiety and frustration -a reoccurring phenomenon that coincided with the presence of a taxing jester- as he said haltingly, "It's NOT."

Joker leaned back, crossing purple sleeved arms, "Ah, YEA, it IS."

Bruce smothered an inward groan. Fine. That's how the Joker wanted to play it?

"Well then I don't accept."

"You... *what*...?"

"Your apology is denied."

"You, erm, can't do that."

"Yes, I can. And I will. I'm not accepting it 'til I hear it from your own-" Bruce said smugly, turning to dry his hands.

Only to find the Joker close enough to touch. The painted man only inches in front of him. Bruce stepped back, voice faltering as he finished, "-two... uh, lips?"

Joker edged closer, uncannily straight-faced as he breathed a raspy, "I'm sorry that you're so... HOT."

Bruce Wayne's slow blink was followed quickly by a deeper frown.

Well that was certainly NOT what he was-

His anger faltered in the face of the clown before him, the Joker not finished as he took another step forward. To which Bruce took two back. Only for the Joker to follow slowly, burning eyes focused solely on the playboy.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help fucking that tight ass that just *begged* to be fucked. I'm sorry I licked your hole 'til you came." Bruce swallowed at the imagery, face burning at the Joker's vulgarity. But the Joker kept at it, taking step for measured step forward until Bruce had nowhere to back up to. He felt, more than saw the billionaire tremble at his proximity. At his words. And he delighted in it. His arm shot out to block escape, as Joker leaned in closer, "I'm sorry I couldn't help myself then. And I'm sorry being this close NOW has me thinking of filthy things to do to you. Alone, as we are, in this bathroom. Heck, I wouldn't mind an audience..."

Bruce couldn't look away from those hungry, black-rimmed eyes. He swallowed. Hard. The heat of the Joker filling the small gap between them. It was all too easy to picture the sinful things the Joker had done. Would do again. *Wanted* to do again.

Bruce shifted against the chilly marble at his back, feeling the opposing cold to the heat at his front.

Okay.

This had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

The purple jacketed man was so close, the hand gripping the wall, effectively blocking the opposing side of the sink -Bruce's escape- clenched into a shaky fist. Those black pits were like ebony voids as the jester closed his eyes, very form trembling. Bruce watched him closely, eyes narrowed. Throat dry.

He could feel the heat between them building. The marble wall was the only thing keeping him cool now. He had to get out of there. This silence was the damned forefront to a storm. And he couldn't afford to be caught up in it.

The Joker felt like he was about to snap.

And Bruce Wayne was the innocent bystander hiking before the ominously cracking dam. The threat of gallons of pressurized, deadly water having nothing over the whims and lusts of the mad man trapping him now. Bruce remembered the night in the limo, and he shivered. His body remembering the *heat* of the Joker. His insatiable, confident allure. The way he just KNEW how to bend Bruce's traitorous body to pleasurable heights the Bat never knew before.

Bruce Wayne felt a flush creep up his neck.

Despite everything, it had felt... glorious.

A good ache.

One he couldn't shake.

His pulse quickened at the closeness of the Prince of Crime.

Damn the mad man.

Damn him for making Bruce *want* this.

Want MORE.

But it was wrong.

So wrong.

And he was cornered.

Again.

His mind whirled, attempting to come up with a solution that had him leaving the bathroom, unscathed by the Joker's heat.

Bruce licked his lip, resolve hardening.

But then it was too late.

The Joker had not been trembling because of the chill in the air, but of his barely restrained control. And the moment those whirling blues got caught up in tracing that pink appendage, it snapped.

Joker knew the Bats would be mad. But he couldn't help himself.

"Just a taste..." Joker murmured aloud, as though it was all the excuse he needed.

Bruce made a protesting sound, readying himself to shove the man away.

Only, that mess of green hair was disappearing quickly as the jester crouched down. His sights set lower than Bruce expected.

Could have predicted.

The fumbling of a belt.

The cold slide of a zipper.

"Jok-" Bruce started to growl.

But by saving's grace, or the first step in the descent to hell, the Joker stopped Bruce before his Bat voice could rise, shaking, from his billionaire throat.

With his mouth.

Around Wayne's-

"Fuck!" Bruce exclaimed, head knocking back against the marble wall. The hand that had been reaching for the devilish man, tangling in that familiar crop of green.

Bruce attempted to gather his wits to grip lower, on the clown's vest. But Joker chose that moment to hollow his cheeks. Savagely.

"Jok- ah!" Bruce Wayne's strength failed him, the man's name caught in his throat along with all his morals and righteous anger. His knees became a mess of jello, about to slide right down to the floor.

But Joker simply gripped the playboy's hips hard enough to bruise with gloved hands, pressing the helpless billionaire against the wall as he took what he could.

The clown's mouth was like fire, and it left Bruce struggling for breath. His free hand gripped the counter top, white-knuckled. He arched with uncontrollable pleasure at each skillful swirl and suck of the Joker's dextrous tongue. He tried to flatten himself against the wall, but that just made the kneeling man growl, grab Bruce's ass harder, and practically shoving the playboy's dick further into his mouth.

Joker deep throated him.

Bruce's eyes rolled at that, a guttural moan wrenched from his throat as spikes of white hot pleasure coursed through his pinned body.

Joker hummed his approval, which only further crumbled Bruce's resolve.

Bruce's drew his gaze downward. Those scarred lips around his straining cock -traitor that it was- was an image he would never forget.

Especially if he came into that insatiable mouth.

Defiant, Bruce gathered all his strength to push the deviant away. With a sinfully loud slurp from the painted menace, Bruce managed to shove that scarred mouth just far enough that his cock had some breathing room. Joker's glare was unmatched.

"Joker, don't-"

"Don't what?" Joker interrupted with an obscene lick of his lips. It had to hurt, how hard Bruce was gripping his green mop of hair, but it didn't show. The maniac chuckled, "Don't give you what you want? What you, er, need?"

"I don't want this." Bruce glared, equally as fierce.

Joker flicked amused eyes pointedly to the erection straining inches before him, before glancing back up at Bruce. 'Oh really?' His eyes seemed to say.

"Shut up."

"Didn't say anything." Joker chuckled.

Bruce forgot about the man's gloved hands. Shouldn't have.

"Joker..." Bruce hissed, as the painted menace wrapped those talented fingers around his throbbing manhood.

His hold loosened, his knees nearly buckled, but Bruce regained it in a second, frown set in place. He couldn't afford to give the Joker an inch. The man would undoubtedly have no boundaries if he let him.

"Bruuucy..." Joker's hot breath ghosted over him, making his cock twitch.

Wayne barely stifled the groan, biting his inner cheek as he grunted, "Stop this."

"You're, ah, only torturing yourself. You know?" Joker hummed in amusement, not even trying to break out of the dark haired man's hold. Brucy was stronger than he looked. Interesting.

"Depriving a madman like yourself is... justifiable." Bruce grunted, willing his erection to go away as he briefly closed his eyes, "Anything you want is never good."

"And if you want the same thing?" Joker purred, dark rimmed eyes slanted.

Bruce's own gaze narrowed as he opened his eyes once more. He took in the crouched man as if for the first time. The jacket, curiously gone. But the Joker looked sinfully well in his green snug vest, the purple long sleeved dress shirt under it not clashing as it would on any normal person. Any SANE person.

"That makes it even worse." Bruce stated, tight-lipped. He should feel disgust for this psychopath. This murderer.

Why was it, then, when he looked at that painted face... he felt anything but?

"Ooh hoo hoo, you are a masochist, aren't you, Brucy boy?" That trademark grin spiked Bruce's heart rate in a way he absolutely did NOT want to think about.

Hell, he was supposed to be getting away from the Joker. Not letting the maniac draw him in.

"Shut up." Bruce exhaled in annoyance, releasing the jester to quickly smack Joker's hand away and tuck himself back in, sure of his ability to stand alone once more.

"Don't want me to finish that?" Joker looked disappointed as the tasteful flesh was hidden from view, though the bulge was still delightfully evident.

"No." Bruce said shortly, turning pointedly to wash his hands once more, glaring at the Joker's image -slowly standing- in the mirror as he added vehemently, "And I never will."

"Never say never, Brucy." Joker chuckled, leaning in as if it were a secret admittance.

"Shut up." Bruce snapped, raising a hand to point at him, "And stay the hell away from me."

Joker, surprisingly, obliged. He rocked back on his heels as he clicked thoughtfully, "Playing hard to get? No matter. I *like* a little, er, challenge. Spices everything up."

"You are so-"

"Handsome? Talented? Brilliant?"

"-deranged." Bruce finished with a hardened look.

"Why thank you." Joker preened, adjusting his collar as though he had just received an award.

Bruce exhaled sharply, leaning on the counter with one arm as he rubbed the crease on his brow with his other hand. He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming. No surprise there.

He headed out of the bathroom without another word, zipping up his leather jacket as he did so. He decidedly ignored the way the Joker looked at him as though he wanted to eat him. Literally and figuratively.

"Stop following me." Bruce said without turning around, paying his tab on the way out. He ignored the curious look the patron gave the painted man that was obviously behind him.

Bruce stopped abruptly just before the exit, the Joker having smoothly stepped before him, opening the door with a grand sweep of his arm.

The billionaire shook himself out of his stupor quick enough to snort and shake his head, "I'm no lady, Joker."

"But you are a prude." Joker said with a wink.

Wayne bristled, before abruptly walking through the doorway, shaking his head. When he heard the familiar hop and skip behind him, he sighed with a hard edge, "I told you to stop following me."

"Who, ah, said I was following you, hot stuff?"

Ignoring him -and the shiver that spiked through him- once more, Bruce scanned his crimson bike with a cursory glance, before shoving on his helmet.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Loud.

One hand on his bike, Wayne sighed, turning sideways as he grudgingly sighed, "What?"

"Hoo Hee, my is it, uhh, nice biking weather."

Bruce grunted noncommittally, swinging his leg over to drop into the seat. He just barely started to turn the motor on before a certain jester decided to prop himself against the front of it, nearly tipping the bike -and consequently Bruce- right over.

To Bruce's agitated growl, Joker merely said, "Well, I commented on the weather. Aren'tcha gonna, er, offer me a ride?" At Bruce's intense look, Joker raised both hands innocently, "On the bike, of course. Just purely pal stuff. Not that, um, we can't do the other more FUN stuff later-"

"*Joker*..." Bruce trailed dangerously.

"All right, all right. Touchy subject, I get it. Sheesh." Joker corrected. But he was still leaning on the motorcycle.

"Move." Bruce said with a hardened look.

"Aw c'mon Brucy boy. I got nothin' else to do -no pun intended, though it is funny, ah c'mon you know it is- and I'm *sure* you have an extra helmet in that, er, little saddlebag of yours. I'm currently ignoring the fact that it's reserved for your little bimbos *cough* all right, all right, little tramps- okay, okay. Eh em, little lady friends, in light of the fact that you'll allow me this one, er, ride? Oh c'mon don't give that look. I volunteered to wear a, ugh, helmet. For safety. Thought you'd like that one." Joker pouted.

Who knew the madman could.

Bruce frowned.

Joker waited. Patiently. Even though his fingers tapped nervously against his vested side.

This was unnatural.

Completely.

Suspicious, Bruce said slowly, "You're... not taking 'no' as an answer, are you?"

"That is not my preference, no. Doesn't mean you can't say it." Joker shrugged airily.

Bruce's frown deepened, "Aaand, you're not gonna move from there 'til I say yes, are you?"

"No, ahh, I'm not." Joker grinned that painted grin, pleased the playboy had figured it out all on his lonesome.

There's the Joker he knew so frustratingly well.

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hear the jester humming to himself past his closed lids, waiting.

Without opening them, Bruce tossed the spare helmet in the madman's direction, though he questioned his own sanity at the moment.

"Fine."

What could it hurt, right?

-o-o-o-

A/N: figured you guys deserved a longer chapter after that wait. I still don't like how fanfiction format won't let me do double space between single sentences and paragraphs. Looks SO much nicer


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from Dark Knight or its affiliates or franchise.

-o-o-o-

"Stop holding so tight."

"Brucy, tsk tak. SAFETY. Dontcha know what that is? Bein' the prim and proper model citizen that you are."

"In my experience, Joker, safety doesn't mean- Get your hand off that!"

The bike swerved a little as the Billionaire swatted at the gloved hand, which had been making its way southward. The heat of it clutching at his zipped up leather-covered abs was uncomfortable, but was bearable in comparison to the alternative.

They had only been driving five minutes.

FIVE minutes.

And Joker was driving him *insane*.

"Joker."

"You aren't really taking this whole safety thing, er, too well Brucy boy. Eyes on the road. No, hee ahee, chit chatting."

"Which i *could* do Joker, if you'd just put your hand back-"

"Don't be so tense Brucy Mc-serious. You need to relaaaaaax."

"Joker!" Bruce swerved again, nearly running over a startled pedestrian on the sidewalk.

He shot a dark look over his shoulder.

"If you don't behave, I am *throwing* you off this bike myself." Bruce growled over the roar of the motor.

It brought such a thrill through Joker's spine, the way he was able to rile the refined man so much. Just like his Bats. It brought such a warm tickling to his cold heart. Anyone else woulda been knifed at this point. Deader than a lamppost. But not Brucy boy. He was just tooooo much fun. Joker giggled, "Ooh. Hee hee ahaw. Spoilsport..."

Wayne exhaled loudly, still alert, but at ease by about a fraction.

-o-o-o-

The motor died, Bruce hopping off the bike like it was on fire. The playboy felt so filthy after that ride, that he seriously considered burning the motorcycle until it was a liquid heap of scrap metal. He barely had time to kick the propped stand before he was a few feet away, helmet dangling on the rubber handles, swaying in the sudden movement and silence.

"Yeesh, I don't have rabies, you know." Joker cackled, swinging off the bike at his leisure, taking his helmet off in a deceptively calm way that was the complete opposite of his very nature.

The whole spectacle was setting his inner Bat on edge. What was the Agent of Chaos's angle?

"I would prefer rabies to whatever it is you have, Joker." Bruce stated in monotony, unzipping his leather to combat the heat that had flooded his body during the trip.

Joker grinned ear to ear, practically skipping to the darker-haired bachelor's side, as he tsked, "Now, now Brucy, that's not very sporting of you. What I *have*, is heh eheh, a third date with Gotham's wealthy son."

Bruce blanched, stepping back as though he would physically contract a disease from Joker's presence alone, "I don't recall-"

"You invited me on this wonderful, yet short, ride. Which *I* graciously accepted. Really, like I don't have other agendas to attend to." The green vested menace interrupted, arm sweeping grandly to indicate the crimson and silver motorcycle behind them.

Bruce snatched the offered helmet with a slight snarl, "I should've given you a thicker one. Obviously you suffered some brain damage on the way here. For one, this is NOT a date. And for another, I would have had to run you over in order to not have you come with me."

"Aw look at that. We can read each other like a book." Joker crooned, before hooking his arms behind him to cast an openly curious gaze around him, "Where are we, anyways? Not exactly a classy place for a third date."

"This is NOT a date." Bruce repeated for what felt like the millionth time. He jammed the extra helm harder than necessary back into the motor saddlebag, before looking around. He ignored the green-haired menace's placid posture and preening, to take in their destination himself. He almost keeled over at the realization.

Hell.

He was at Wayne Towers.

A meeting with Fox.

He couldn't exactly stroll into one of the most heavily surveillance strung buildings in Gotham with the city's most infamous psychopathic murderer at his heels. And Fox was one of the most brilliant, understanding and perceptive men Wayne knew, but he doubted this unforgettable entourage would slip past the older man's grey streaks without inducing a heart attack.

"Joker-"

"Yadda yadda yadda, I know, I know." Joker groused, waving his gloved hand airily, "Can't come. Don't worry your pretty little head. I'll go get some ice cream while you take care of your, er, boring little money games. Pointless, really, if you ask me."

Bruce couldn't even begin to express his relief, but merely replied with a calmer than normal retort, "No one's asking you."

-o-o-o-

"You seem a bit nervous." Fox peered at him through knowing gray brows, dimples deeper as he grinned that amused grin. Like Fox knew the secrets of the universe at his fingertips, all you would need to do was ask.

"That obvious, huh?" Bruce Wayne, nerves of steel, chuckled half-heartedly. The schematics in hand was all but forgotten, and he quickly handed it over so he would stop crinkling the edges.

"Would it have anything at all to do with that troubled young man in the parking lot? He seems to have taken a liking to that sweet little ride you have outside." Fox noted, with a cursory glance at the documents now in hand.

"That's quite possible..." Bruce trailed, rubbing the back of his neck to give his jittery hands something to do. It seems simply not bringing the Joker in with him was not the easy solution he had hoped for. Fox was too sharp for that.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, son. I hear even that vigilante Bat character has made some new friends. You need to be careful what crowd you associate with." Fox stated carefully, eyes focused on the pages before him. A small token Bruce was grateful for. He felt he would grow redder than a tomato in shame for having been found out.

Fox was right.

Joker was a wanted criminal. A man who didn't abide by the rules that governed normal society. If anything, he liked to jump rope with those rules just to see how the pieces would fall in the end. Perhaps the mad man was just playing with Bruce. Attempting to get on his good side to get in touch with Batman, before pulling some grand scheme.

Lives could be at stake.

"It's not exactly like I have a choice." Bruce sighed wearily, raking a hand through his gelled locks.

Fox paused to look up at Bruce, gray eyes as sharp as ever. He cleared his throat, "Son, you always have a choice."

Wayne nodded mutely, turning his gaze to the side.

"'Course... I could be wrong. Perhaps even the most unfortunate of us have the will to change. You seem to be a positive influence, perhaps just the *right* influence, that this young man might need."

That answer had Bruce's mind reeling.

It was a logical possibility his inner Bat did not want to consider.

At all.

The Joker.

Need him?

No.

"What good will that do if I go *insane* first?" Bruce countered gruffly, arms crossed.

"Well, that is quite a dilemma then, isn't it Mr. Wayne?" Fox chuckled, shuffling the papers in hand, "I can't pretend to know the answers to all of life's questions, son. *That* is something you are gonna have to discover on your own."

At Bruce's grimace, the dark-skinned man laughed again, "In the meantime, I will go ahead and add these upgrades here for you. Don't take everything so seriously, young man. Life is what you make of it. Bullshitting and otherwise."

Bruce couldn't help cracking a grin at that one, "I will keep that in mind, Lucius."

-o-o-o-

Joker sighed. Audibly.

Vanilla ice cream in hand, he took another droll lick. He was a man of simple tastes. None of those silly, long worded flavors. Mud fudge what sits or dingleberry doodads. Vanilla.

Straight.

Pure and simple.

Though he wouldn't mind if he had the option to add a side of Brucy or Bats to it-

"Excuse me, sir, I've had a recent reporting around this area from the ice cream shoppe down the road that- Holy HELL!" The Gotham Police Officer looked ready to shit his pants as he recognized the suited man leaning casually against the motorcycle.

Joker would have thought it funny, if he didn't have a previous engagement.

Namely, Brucy boy who would be coming out any moment.

"Keep it down will ya?" Joker whined, attempting to shush the officer with a finger to his scarred mouth, "You're gonna get me in trouble."

But this just made the pudgy officer raise his voice louder, if nothing else, as he dropped into a stance with his pistol whipped out, "FREEZE Joker! Put your hands up where I can see 'em!"

"Easy big fella..." Joker attempted to placate the rigid officer, reading the man's name tag in hopes it would make matters better, "Mr. Timmons, is it? There's really no need for-"

"I said HANDS UP!" Timmons declared in such a loud pitch his voice nearly squeaked.

Apparently personalization was not the way to go with this one. If anything, the officer's face completely drained of blood the moment his name rolled from those painted lips.

Joker tried and failed horribly to hide his snorted laughter at the whole scene, arms shooting up as he replied with a chortle, "Hee ahaw haw hoo, all right, fat man, they're up. Now you mind lowering your voice, or maybe watching where you're pointing that thing? It's not a donut, you know. Though it looks like you've had a dangerously large amount yourself there, pudgy."

"D-D-Don't tell me what to do with my weapon! Now face down on the curb! NOW!"

Joker stared at him pointedly, "Can't you see I'm trying to eat my ice cream?"

"Drop DOWN! I SAID NOW!"

This was getting ridiculous.

He just got his ice cream. It wasn't even *halfway* finished.

Joker frowned, "No."

"Get down on the ground or I *w-will* SHOOT!"

Joker's painted brow deepened. He doubted with the way the Officer was shaking that he would hit him if the Joker was standing right in front of him, much less from a few feet away as they were now.

Not that he'd care either way.

He wasn't afraid of a little pain.

"Go right ahead, tubby. I'm not finished with my ice cream." Joker dropped his arms, going right back to what he was doing earlier. Leaning against the play boy's ride as he licked his just desserts.

At his sudden movement, Timmons let off his trigger finger, the bullet blasting the pavement near the front of the bike.

At least four feet away from where the Joker stood.

Joker paused in his ice cream consumption to glance at the wild shot, then back at the frozen officer, coal lined brow raised.

"Hmmmm, I must say Timmons. Normally, I'm not impressed by marksmanship but, heh eheh... WOW. I *am* impressed."

"Shut it, Joker. That was a warning shot! Next time you won't be so lucky you f-f-fREAK!"

The clown stilled. The word sent the most unpleasant stabbing sensations through his gut. Like a swarm of piranha mutated butterflies fluttering in his insides.

A flash of images.

The dark room.

Shattered glass.

Those cold, dead eyes.

'You killed her, boy. Happy now? She's dead 'cause of you, *freak*.' The whispered voice was like a blunt fork in his ear, as real now as it had been back then.

Joker twitched, head lowered as he glared at the frozen officer through hanging green locks.

No one...

*No one*...

Called him that and walked away.

Alive.

He fingered the blade in his pant suit pocket, imagining piercing it through the useless man's skull.

The officer was petrified. Eyes glued to the lethal maniac that had suddenly emerged in the silent jester standing before him. It was like a complete transformation. If the skies could darken, they would.

The Agent of Chaos stepped forward.

Closer to his future victim.

Even the officer knew.

Then all of a sudden-

"...Joker."

Joker blinked. Shook his head once, and turned. The clouds dispersed in his head, the killing frenzy dissipating.

He turned, expecting to see someone.

But was momentarily confused when the concerned-looking Billionaire came into view.

Why did he think-

Why did that voice-

So familiar.

The clown cocked his head. Momentarily confused and mesmerized. This Brucy, what was it about him?

Bruce Wayne gathered himself, mentally kicking his inner Bats for letting that slip of tone come through. Without the Dark Knight outfit. And with Joker. RIGHT. There.

Bruce cleared his throat, clenched as it was when he had stepped out into the street, only to see his least favorite person about to approach a scared shitless cop with the dripping intent to kill. It was so clear to Bruce.

So easily readable.

The jester had been pushed to the edge. Somehow.

And a little bit of the fear he had for the safety of those around them, had returned tenfold. This was who the Joker was.

A killer.

A murderer.

A psychopath.

Yet he stopped at the mere sound of his name. From Bruce.

The playboy pushed the reason and logic of why to the back of his mind, as he did with all things that concerned the green-haired menace.

"Joker, what are you doing?" Bruce said, in his normal tones, thankfully.

It was like a switch had flipped. The bloodthirsty savageness all but evaporated, the jester playful once more.

"Uh, *minding* my own business 'til nancy boy here came along. Waving his gun around and making me drop. MY. Ice. Cream." The last two words were snarled, as the Joker shot a spiteful look back at the cop, who was still rooted to the spot.

Timmons snapped out of it long enough to shout, "Mr. Wayne! Stay back, this is the Joker!"

Bruce stepped forward, brimming with the fearless confidence that demanded respect as he replied calmly, "It's all right, Officer. Just tell me what happened."

Joker was more than a little surprised, as was the officer. This was Bruce Wayne. Billionaire playboy. The man who went through cars as fast as he went through women.

Since when did he know how to command attention in such a way? The Gotham Police Officer had been quaking so hard his knees almost rattled off. But at those few reassuring words, Timmons managed to pull himself together. Almost as though the last few minutes never happened.

At the sight of the new Timmons, Joker's brows raised slightly, glancing sideways at Bruce in a new light.

Definitely more to Brucy boy than meets the eye.

"I received a panicked call from a nearby ice cream shoppe, Mr. Wayne, where the young lady working the register reported a man in a purple suit wrecking the establishment and stealing some ice cream." Timmons replied, with a hardened, wary glance at the Joker, "I didn't realize, at the time, it would be the clown."

"Not a clown." The jester snarked, making the officer jump.

"Joker." Bruce admonished, "Is this true?"

"The place needed a little bit of sprucing up-"

"Joker?"

"-I didn't really DO anything-"

"Joker."

"-too bad. I mean, what's a little bit of decorating-"

"Joker!"

The green vested jester flopped his animated arms to his side, deflated as he whined, "Whaaaaaat?"

"Did you do it?"

Joker kicked a pebble on the pavement, ignoring the officer with gun still pointed, watching his every move. He stuck hands in his pockets, shrugging up at Bruce as he mentioned quietly, "Well Brucy, there was no one *there*..."

The frown on Wayne's face made the Joker's shoulders sag under its weight.

"Did you pay for it?"

"Mr. Wayne, with all due respect, this is a waste of time asking the frea-"

"DON'T call me *THAT*!" Joker rounded at the Officer like a mad man, lunging at him. Bruce's eyes widened at the reaction.

Timmons hand was squeezing the trigger. The Joker was almost on him.

But Bruce was faster.

He kicked Timmon's feet from under him, the shot firing wildly into the air. The officer slammed bodily to the pavement. Simultaneously, Bruce tackled the enraged jester, pinning him to the ground with more effort than it would normally take.

"Easy Joker! Calm down." Bruce ordered through clenched jaw, pinning the wily man's arms behind his back, Joker thrashing face first against the harsh pavement.

"Not nice. Name calling." Joker snarled, struggling once and twice more before settling down, realizing who it was holding him down.

"Timmons! Holster your weapon!" Bruce barked as the other got up, "Joker, tell me, did you do it? Did you steal?"

"No! Of course not!" Joker exclaimed indignantly. He turned his head to glance sideways up at the unreasonably strong playboy, "I left, hee hee, the money on the counter. I didn't make too much of a mess, Brucy boy. I swear!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Wayne. It doesn't matter what this scumbag says. I gotta take him in." Timmons stated, gun pointed down and away, but not holstered.

Bruce stilled. The officer was right. Maybe Joker did it. Maybe he didn't. Either way, Joker was still a wanted criminal. Charged with several counts of arsen, homocide, robbery, and vandalism among other things. The police officer couldn't just forget he saw the jester.

Bruce's hands were tied.

Bruce wearily got to his feet, sure of the Joker's composure once more.

The purple sleeved menace sprung up the moment he got the chance, turning to gaze with blue eyes distrustingly at the officer beside them. But the next words out of Bruce's lips stunned him almost to silence.

Joker's head snapped back to the billionaire, eyes widened, "What?"

"I said, don't fight." Bruce sighed, eyes closed.

"Whaddaya mean? I didn't do it. I didn't do nothin' wrong." Joker frowned, stepping up to the drained playboy.

But Bruce stopped him with a raised palm, "I don't want to hear it, Joker. Please... I can't- this is the law we're talking about."

Joker sniffed, turning to gauge Timmons with a disarming eye, "Hah, I can take 'im."

To which the officer visibly flinched, trigger finger itchy.

"Joker." Bruce was spent. He couldn't deal with this too much more today. Yes, he knew the Joker could handle himself, against 20 men much less one. But the part of his mind that locked up everything he pondered about the Joker, every little speculation, was filled to the brim and bursting to get out.

The jester was too much.

He was a psychopath.

His path was riddled with bones and blood.

How could he ever change?

Why would he want to?

Joker himself looked like a kicked dog, locks draped over his hanging head. Timmons approached hesitantly, grabbing the purple-sleeved arms and cuffing 'em as soon as he got the chance. But it was all too easy. Joker was like a marionette who's strings had been cut. Not energetic. Not fighting.

Not his usual self.

It clenched Batman's heart. But he stomped that inkling away as soon as it appeared.

When Timmons started dragging the Joker bodily to the cop car, that mop of green hair flopped back up, coal-rimmed eyes seeking Bruce's guilt-filled brown, "Well, it's been a blast, Brucy boy. Didn't think I'd actually go to the slammer for something, hee ahee, that I didn't even do. Hoo hoo, too funny. It's too bad our third date had to end so soon."

Bruce took in the sight of the maniac, so downtrodden yet optimistically sarcastic. He could easily take Timmons. Kill the man like a two year old would squash a bug. But he didn't.

Wouldn't.

Simply because Bruce ASKED him not to.

He was gonna regret this.

"Wait." He stopped the police officer, not missing the curious gleam in Joker's eye.

-o-o-o-

"You did WHAT?" That British voice filtered unusually loud through the phone, Wayne having to jerk the cell away for a moment, "Perhaps my hearing is more impaired that I thought, Mr. Wayne. My apologies, I thought you said you had filed for a, ahem, court order to have the *Joker* placed under your care. As in, he would be boarding in your penthouse, possibly even *living* with you, which is a truly INSANE notion, if you don't mind me saying so, sir, and-"

"Hey ROOMIE!" Joker cackled as he stepped grandly into the den room, "Gotta say I didn't realize we'd be bunking together so early in our, heh heh, re-LA-tionship, but I, ah, just *love* the new digs. Not as dreary as those warehouses, but I gotta admit, it's a *li-ttle* too high end for my tastes."

Bruce was floored.

Really.

Really amazing timing there.

He didn't know which catastrophe to stop first.

"Uhhhh..." Bruce Wayne, vigilante extraordinaire and suave playboy, was at a complete loss for words.

The phone was dead in complete and utter silence.

Joker cocked his head at Bruce's look of disbelief.

Then it exploded.

"Master Wayne have you LOST you *MARBLES*! I mean com-PLETELY this time?!" Alfred boomed in the phone.

Bruce grimaced as he held it a safe distance away from his ear.

"Who is that, pumpkin?" Joker skipped closer, curious.

"A-Alfred-" Bruce started, glaring at the jester as he hissed, "-don't call me that. We are NOT in a relationship!-" before turning back to the phone, "-Now Alfred, calm down."

"Do NOT tell me to calm down, Master Wayne. You have a psychotic clown living in your place, which you have done *without* consulting me, and I am halfway around the world-" The furious butler exclaimed on the phone.

"Alfred, now come on-"

"-you are in serious need of therapy, sir, and this is just simply in-excusable-"

"I know, I know, Alfred, now can you just please let me explain-"

"-there is absolutely NO explanation for this, Master Wayne, and I can NOT tolerate the only surviving Wayne to live in the house with a monster!"

"Alfred, he's not a-" Bruce attempted to get a word in edgewise.

"Oooh, he's mad, huh?" Joker piped in, rocking back on his heels as he watched the scene with anxious amusement.

"Shut up, Joker!" Bruce snapped at the, turning his back on the jester in hopes he could attempt to calm Alfred down in relative peace.

Joker, in the meantime, busied himself looking around. The room sure had a nice cozy feeling to it, despite it's relative largeness. A large portion of the room dipped down to a lower circular setting, a few steps separating it from the higher floor of the rest of the room. The main function of it surrounded by curved couches all facing the large fireplace carved into the wall.

The opposite end was an entire wall of plexiglass window, while a bar setting was situated on the far side of the room.

He strolled over to the glass window as he heard poor Brucy's attempts to placate the mysterious Alfred on the phone.

"Alf- no, of course not!" Along with a chorus of, "Alfred. No, everything's FINE. Would you calm d- yes I know I said that already, and no, I don't think repeating it will make it magically-"

Joker's eyes narrowed.

What if Brucy had been lying earlier? What if this Alfred really was some sort of boyfriend figure?

Well Joker knew how to take care of-

No, Joker shook his head. He couldn't think like that anymore. At least, not unless it was truly called for. He had to be on good behavior. Had to show Brucy, and Bats, that he was game.

He could behave.

Really.

It's not like Alfred would really be missing a limb or two, if he was who he thought he was with his Brucy.

Honestly, who *couldn't* function without a lung? Or their heart?

Oops.

Joker scratched his head.

The logic was flawed there somewhere.

Wayne, in the meantime was busy with his own little battle. Though his was more of a mini war with one of the Queen's retired soldiers.

"Alfred, you are as stubborn as my father." Bruce said through grit teeth.

The Brit's voice, if nothing else, wasn't as loud as it had been, "And you, sir, are just as pigheaded as he was in his glorified moments. What makes you think the Joker won't figure it out? Insane genius that he is. How long you figure it'll take 'im to put the pieces together?"

Bruce turned slightly to look back at the green-vested jester. Who was calmly standing in the middle of the room, his gaze intense as he met Bruce's gaze stare for stare.

He shivered at the meticulously quizzical look, the Joker seeming to dissect him on the spot.

"He won't..." Bruce, momentarily caught in that black-rimmed stare, wavered in both voice and conviction.

Alfred paused on the other end, "Are you quite sure of that, sir?"

Joker's brow arched, trademark grin in place as he became aware of the playboy's attention. That devouring look brought a shiver down Wayne's spine.

Clearing his throat, Bruce turned away once more, clawing free of the Joker's hold as he said more firmly, "He won't, Alfred."

It was silent on the other line for a few beats, long enough for Bruce to fear an induced heart attack.

But Alfred's somber tone drifted through, finally, "And you are quite sure you don't need me home, Master Wayne...?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Bruce replied.

It would be just one more thing to worry about.

Bruce didn't think he could take much more in that department.

Batman remained silent.

"Of course, sir. Do keep in touch."

"Will do Alfred."

"And Master Wayne? You know where I keep the handy shotgun, should you need it-"

"Yes Alfred."

"-and the spare pistols in the-"

"Yes Alfred." Bruce sighed in exasperation.

"-as well as the-"

"Yes Alfred," Bruce couldn't help smiling at the old man's overprotective streak, "Goodbye, Alfred."

"Goodbye, Sir." He could hear the return smile in the butler's dear voice.

Bruce stared at the phone as he hung up. How he still missed the old man.

"Well. That was, er, in-Ter-esting. Your old friend not know 'bout our little, ah, sleepover arrangement?" Joker twiddled his thumbs innocently.

"Temporary. Our temporary arrangement." Bruce stressed, his frown matching the Joker's own, "Just until you find your own place."

"Talk about stingy. You have ALL this room up here to yourself, and you can't make room for little old me?" Joker gestured animatedly, gloved hands pressed in shock against his vested chest.

Bruce cocked a brow at the jester's exaggerated dramatics, folding his muscled arms across his broad chest, "This is for my own sanity Joker-"

"Pffft, sanity's overrated." Joker waved his hand airily, face scrunched in disapproval of the mere notion.

"-or would you rather I strangle you to death?" Bruce finished, more stern after the Joker's lackadaisical attitude.

"Hoo hoo, *NOW* we're talkin'!" Joker hooted, slapping his knee, before approaching the billionaire gleefully.

"Joker..." Bruce warned, frowning.

"Wow, I *must* be attracted to jackasses. Hee eheh, both of you are just soooo similar." Joker noted, snorting as he came to a screeching halt.

No telling what repercussions may arise from messing up so early in the game. Joker wouldn't have imagined the old straight and narrow Brucy actually pulling *this*. Using his money and connections to have the Joker placed under his care. Any other felon with a quarter of his crimes would be swinging from a rope by now.

Musta' made a hell of an impression on the good lookin' billionaire, Joker chuckled to himself, with a wet flick of his tongue on dry, painted lips. He really did outdo himself sometimes.

"Both... of us?" Bruce questioned.

But he knew full well who the Joker meant, and with that expression on Joker's face, the criminal wasn't fooled one bit by the act.

Joker leaned forward, hands folded behind his back to show no ill intent, as he whispered conspiratorially, "Why, the *Bats* of course. Really, you two are the only interesting people in all of Gotham, heck, the whole world. Other than me, of course."

Bruce leaned back at the small invasion of space, "I don't know what you'd think I and that Bat character would have in common-"

"Oh come come come come now," Joker laughed, skipping to start sauntering around the startled billionaire. The jester pursed his lips, stroking his chin as he measured the dark haired beauty with a critical eye, continuing his circling of the now tense playboy, "You're both, ah, attractive. Fit. Spoilsports. Ahhhhh, let's see, what else...?"

"He fights crime-" Bruce started to argue.

"Come now Brucy, so do you."

"Physically."

"I have a hard time believing -after you so expertly handled me too few times- that your tight bod can't handle a few, extreme, measures such as Batsy would."

"He doesn't sleep around with handfuls of gorgeous women."

"That we know of, anyway. But that's beside the point. Because neither can you. No. Not anymore, Brucy boy."

"Really?" Bruce grunted, unamused.

"Not when you both have *ME*, hee hee." Joker stopped circling to do a little twirl, ending with a short bow.

"I see the mostly non-criminal life hasn't humbled you one bit." Bruce noted dryly, crossing his arms once more.

"Mostly? Dear Brucy boy, I haven't done any bad deeds since you and I hooked up. Sinful things, yes. Deliciously, hot, and steamy things-"

"Stay on track, Joker." Bruce snapped his fingers twice, taking those scorching eyes off from devouring his solid form, and back to his stern face. He knew the Joker got sidetracked easily, but he didn't realize it was this bad.

Joker pouted, "How much longer til we can do the dirty? I've been sooo good."

"Joker! I did NOT agree to do ANYthing like that with you." Bruce stated, possibly a little louder than necessary.

"Don't gotta say nothin', hot stuff. Your body tells me ALL I need to know." Joker's grin cracked wider, another swipe of his tongue to wet his lips, demanding eyes raking the billionaire's expensively clothed form.

"Would you prefer I revers the court order? Night in the cells. Remember that." Bruce warned.

"Hoo hee, got it sergeant general!" Joker cackled, saluting the irate billionaire, "Touchy touchy. I thought you were supposed to, er, *unwind* with all those money grubby bimbos you slept with."

"Hmm." Bruce grunted, unimpressed, as he strolled over to a closet out in the hall.

He returned with sheets.

Tossing it at the Joker, Bruce informed him curtly, "There's a room across the hall from this one. That will be your sleeping quarters." Without further notice, the vigilante quickly strode out of the room, "Good night."

"What, no kiss before bed?" Joker asked, catching the tossed sheets easily.

"Do yourself a favor, don't push it." Bruce advised, before disappearing out into the hall.

"Yes sir, hee hee." Joker replied smartly. He rushed out to the hallway to see which way the retreating playboy had disappeared too. But no such luck.

Guess Brucy boy really was the tall, dark and silent type.

"And so coy, too." Joker hummed, amused, to himself.

"Well, got all the time in the world tomorrow..." Joker said in a singsong phrase, hop and skipping into his appointed room, blankets dragged on the floor in tow behind him.

Further down the hall Bruce heaved a sigh of momentary relief. He was sure the jester would have caused all sorts of mayhem rather than go willingly to his room.

Speaking of mayhem...

Bruce fingered the plastic case in his pocket. The latest surveillance footage from the ice cream shoppe. He wasn't sure whether he believed the painted man. Even though Joker's voice rang through his head, 'I'm a man of my *WORD*...'

He was in his room, moments later, elbows propped forward on knees as he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the disc in his hands. Did the Joker really do these things? Did he have any reason to believe the insane man?

He lifted his hung head to stare at the door. Beyond which led a short maze of halls to the room that held the very jester in question.

Everybody deserved a second chance. Even someone with as checkered a past as the Joker.

Could he give Joker that chance?

Would Batman?

Heaving another weary sigh, Bruce got up. There was really only one way to find out.

He stepped toward the television, and popped the DVD in the player.

Whether he would like the results or not, he just had to see.

Just what HAD the Joker done in that random ice cream shoppe?


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from the Dark Knight or any part of its franchise.

-o-o-o-

The monitor was fuzzy. Definitely not blue-ray quality, but it would do.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, adrenaline coursing though there was really no action or immediate physical danger to call for such a response. But the figures on the tape, he knew they would hold the key to that lingering question. Could Joker possess the ability to change?

Would he?

According to officer Timmons, Joker had committed several counts of crime. Vandalism, destruction of public property and theft. Small counts in the face of Joker's colorful past, but criminal charges all the same. The city was out for Joker's blood. It had been hell to fight to have the Joker placed under his care. Not to mention the deep internal struggle with himself just for *thinking* of the idea in the first place.

Would Bruce's faith be rewarded?

He fast forwarded through the more mundane parts of the video. A small trickle of people coming in and out, movements made funny by the enhanced digital speed. It wasn't until he caught sight of one purple-sleeved individual that he stopped it, rewinding a little until he caught the Joker's entrance.

The jester swaggered in, coming to a stop at the counter and swaying back on his heels. Bruce couldn't believe it. The ever-impatient Joker was just standing there quietly.

Waiting.

If the video had any sound at all, he was sure the green-haired man was humming to himself.

After a minute or two, Joker started looking around, lips moving as he called out. Still nothing.

Shrugging, the Joker vaulted over the counter, accidentally knocking over a discount sign in the process.

With bated breath, Bruce watched as the Joker helped himself to a few scoops of -what looked to be plain vanilla- ice cream. With a sigh, Wayne shook his head.

"Joker..." He uttered mutely, tendrils of disappointment creeping in.

He was in for a shock in the end, however.

After scooping his own ice cream, Joker strolled over to the back billboard that had the prices colorfully displayed in chalk. After artfully drawing something on it, Joker took a step back to admire his handiwork. It was hard to tell from the angle of the camera, but it looked like...

...A frowning picture of a...

*BAT*?...

The jester took a moment to smile. then he snapped his fingers, almost as though it had been an afterthought. Digging into his pockets, Joker produced a big wad of cash, counting the amount meticulously. Looking pointedly at the fallen display sign, Joker shrugged and produced a single large bill, tossing it on the counter before skipping his way out.

It wasn't until he was halfway out the door that an employee rushed to the counter. It looked to be a pig-tailed hair brunette, hastily fixing her uniform as another man -equally as disheveled in appearance- rushed up beside her.

They both watched the green-vested man's departure, before quickly taking stock of their inventory. While the girl employee was looking over the ice cream, the male -who was not dressed in the same uniform, but rather street clothes and a leather jacket- spotted the cash on the counter.

His eyes bulged, and he pocketed the bill before the girl could see.

Bruce clenched his fist.

They talked for a little bit, then the blonde male left in a rush, the girl picking up the phone immediately afterwards.

Bruce Wayne released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, hand still clenched into a fist. He was in complete disbelief.

So the Joker...

...had been telling the truth?

-o-o-o-

Joker was going mad. Here he was, cooped up in the Billionaire's suave digs, and he was currently in his own room. At night.

Not in the same one as that hot piece of- whoo!

Nope. Instead here he was. All alone.

Not happenin'.

Joker strolled merrily out the room, choosing what seemed like a random pathway through the hall. But he had an odd sense of direction. Even when he was young. Small, lingering signs pointed the way.

Such as the tiny, telltale scuff in the lavish hallways that spoke of normal tracks in the otherwise unnoticeable decor of the room. He followed it, humming an upbeat tune before stopping at a particular door. A dark mahogany sealed with a gleaming polish.

He knew.

Somehow he just *knew*.

This... why this was Brucy's door.

Straightening his vest as best he could, Joker stood upright, clearing his throat and raising his hand to knock.

Before his gloved hand could make contact, Joker froze.

He could just *feel* the glare burning the back of his neck.

Suspicious, the jester turned slowly.

"Don't you think you've bothered him enough for one day?" The dark figure in the dim lighting inquired gruffly.

Joker squinted, taking in the ebony outlines of the vigilante in the suddenly small hallway. But he would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Batsy!" Joker yelped excitedly, arms wide in greeting, "I didn't know you had VIP to Wayne's place. You guys, er, hang out a lot?"

Batman caught the small spike of spiteful jealousy in the clown's tone, no matter how much the jester tried to bury it with his anxious fiddling.

The vigilante sighed, fighting the amused smirk that threatened to lift the corner of his hardened lips.

If Joker only knew.

"I have VIP everywhere, Joker." Batman countered, turning to go back out the open balcony.

The curtains fluttered with the breeze, almost as anxiously as Joker's suddenly fluttering heart, "Hey, er, Bats. Where ya goin'?"

Batman paused in the open night air, turning to observe the silent jester. Those gloved hands wringing together in a nervous motion.

"What are you, under house arrest? Come with me." Batman acknowledged with a slight jerk of his leather helm, devil horns pointed to the open darkness before them.

"Hoo hee hee, don't hafta tell me twice." Joker giggled gleefully, scrambling out after him. Then the jester thought about it and stopped, turning to look behind him as he whispered, "What about Brucy?"

Batman smirked at the man's thoughtfulness. A completely different side to the maniac he was accustomed to. He merely rumbled, "I'm sure Mr. Wayne wouldn't mind a peaceful rest after a day with you."

"Okay, but if he finds out, *you're* tellin' him." Joker shrugged, stepping out into the chill air next to the caped crusader.

Batman chuckled. The man was capable of mass murder without batting an eyelash. Could take the whole police force without a nervous tick in his body. Could burn cities to the ground. And what worried him was disappointing billionaire Bruce Wayne?

His slipped sound brought a light to the green haired jester's features. But the smirk on his Bats face didn't disappear this time around.

"Like I said, he won't mind." Batman repeated humorously.

The leather-clad vigilante turned to grip the railing, one booted foot on the lower rung.

"So..." Joker stepped up next to him, peering down the 40 story drop before rubbing his hands together and glancing sideways at his favorite Bat, "How we gonna do this? I don't have wings, ya know."

With a noncommittal grunt, Batman signaled the wily man over to him. Without hesitation, the Joker sidled next to him, "Hoo hoo hee, this is gonna be fun."

With another smirk, no other warning, Batman gathered the smartly dressed Joker in his arms and leaped over the ledge.

Any other person would be terrified. Screaming even. But Joker was utterly *thrilled*.

He cackled in pure delight, clinging as tight as he could to the Bat. He wasn't afraid in the slightest. Batman had his muscled arms secure around him. And Joker, if nothing else, was a seeker of danger.

With the Joker's face being so close, Batman flinched at the first loud hoot, his audio receptors filtering the volume a nanosecond too late. But the joyous shots that followed were more bearable. Batman took a moment to look at the criminal he held. Even with the facepaint, he was able to discern the handsome figure underneath. It was almost if Joker went out of his way to hide his physical beauty, the scars hardly masking that by themselves.

It was in moments like these Bruce forgot what the criminal had done. Joker was just...

Purely childlike.

Joker, sensing his regard, returned the stare.

Over the roar of the wind, Joker commented, "This is nice and all Bats, but do you mind deploying your cape, or do you have a death wish?"

Right.

About that.

Batman immediately activated the electronic current, allowing it to release into hang glider mode as he kept his hold on the jester. Just in the nick of time, too, as the pavement came screaming up at them.

Joker giggled as Batman kicked up, hopping on the rooftop of a passing truck before the twin pack booster he had installed in the suit roared to life, jettisoning them straight back up into the air.

"Helluva kick!" Joker exclaimed, once the air was no longer strangled in his throat by the immediate g-force of their sudden acceleration, "Kinda cuttin' it close there, Batsy. Distracted, perhaps? Don't imagine too much of your gal pals having this much fun on a first date."

Focused on avoiding collision with the towering skyscrapers around them, Batman merely growled, "Shut up and hold on, Joker."

"Heh, you're welcome." Joker retorted gleefully, to which there was no response.

Then again, he hadn't quite expected one.

-o-o-o-

Joker grinned wildly as he caught sight of all the little dots that were people, innocent bystanders making the mistake of strolling Gotham streets at night. Tongue out, he released one of his arms to fish in his pockets, producing a very large and shiny coin.

He had heard about this thing, where if you dropped a coin from the Eiffel Tower-

"Joker, I wouldn't do that." Batman warned in monotone, head not even turned to look at the jester.

"I know YOU wouldn't, why do you think *I'm* doing it, hee ahee?" Joker snorted, hand poised to make the drop. The green-vested jester was tempted to make a whistling sound like it was a bomb about to be dropped.

"Whaaaaaat? It's not like I have a very high chance of actually, er, *hitting* anybody. Do you know how fast we're going?"

"Forty miles per hour-"

"Really? That fast huh?"

"-and I also know how good a shot you are-"

"Aww, Batsy, that is soooo sweet of you to notice."

"-so you so much as *attempt* and I will drop you and you can make your own way back. We'll see just how willing Bruce Wayne is in welcoming you back after that."

"It is JUST a little coin. You wouldn't really..."

"..." Somehow the dark caped man managed to be louder than the howling wind in his disapproving silence.

Joker slumped, stuffing the coin back in his pantsuit pocket, "...party pooper."

Batman was impressed.

Even as Joker stewed in his sullen mood.

Here was a man who had defied the top dogs of the mob. Who went against every law, both written and nonverbal, for mankind. Someone who would take every opportunity to randomly shoot someone because he could. Because it was funny.

Like now.

And yet he refrained

Simply because Batman asked him. Just like when he was Bruce Wayne. Fox's words echoed in his head.

Everyone deserved a second chance.

Was Batman really the glue to patch Joker's pieces back together?

He didn't notice the Joker's mood shifting. From glum to curious, as he silently observed Batman's thought processing. At least, he didn't notice until Joker piped up, "So, er, Bats. Where we goin'?"

Batman snapped out of it, turning to glance at the timid Joker. Probably afraid the vigilante was bringing him to Arkham.

It was odd seeing the Joker so unsure.

It was sort of endearing.

Normally it was Bruce being placed on the balancing beam.

Bruce and Bat smirked with a low growl, "You'll see."

-o-o-o-

Randy Ackerson was minding his own business, when out of the blue, he was yanked from his feet skyward, the tightness of a cord around his ankle barely noticeable amidst the onset of panic and hysteria.

He didn't even notice the crackle of booming thunder.

The blonde teen shrieked like a little girl, dangling upside down a few stories up, his vision momentarily blurred in his shock. When it cleared, it was sharper than ever, powered by the rush of adrenaline through his veins. And the sight of a grim-faced Batman, barely visible in the dark of the night, nearly had Randy pissing himself then and there.

"Wha-Wha-what do you want? What's happening!?" The terrified teen questioned.

Batman glared at him wordlessly.

Lightning struck the dark clouds, illuminating the vigilante's features like an unworldly creature of the night.

Of all sounds, Randy heard lighthearted humming, footsteps on the slick rooftop, along with the sudden appearance of a colorfully dressed man. Randy's eyes nearly bulged when he recognized that painted face. It had been all over the news months ago with the bombings and ferry fiasco. And recently now with the bank robberies and arson terrors.

"J-j-j-j-JOKER?" Randy let out a frighteningly feminine shriek. He started bawling his eyes out.

Batman AND the Joker? Working together?! He was screwed. He was totally screwed!

"Yeeeeesssss, and, uh, who are YOU?" Joker frowned, confused. He turned to Batman, still in the dark why his Bats was even playing around with this nobody, "Who *is* he, Bats?"

Batman gave a slow blink, acknowledging the jester's presence with a glance, before turning back to the bawling Randy.

"I believe you owe him an apology, Randy Ackerson." Batman rumbled. Joker now looked even more confused, turning his unwanted attention towards the unruly young man.

"Wh-what? How do you know my-? I didn't DO anything to the J-Joker!" Randy blubbered, swinging frantically in the sudden outpouring of rain.

"Lying is not good for your health. A hundred dollar bill ring any bells?" Batman rumbled warningly, unmoving in the downpour. His still figure, draped in his gleaming cape, made him all the more menacing to behold.

Joker's face scrunched up in thought. This was about money? He couldn't recall any schmuck that stole from him and well, heh, LIVED to spend the fortune, so to speak. Not that Joker cared about useless paper so much. Oh no. It was the *principle*.

"Hundred dollar-?" Randy paused in his incessant crying to make the connections, only to grow in horror, "T-that money was *HIS*?!"

"It really doesn't matter whose money it was, Randy. Fact of the matter is, you stole it. And certain individuals were charged with crimes because of that." Batman uttered darkly.

"But he's done so much worse than-" Randy started to protest loudly.

"Do you really want to argue on this, Randy? Think real hard before you answer." Batman cut him off, tone spiked in anger.

"N-no." Randy whimpered quietly, dangling as he anxiously awaited his fate.

Joker, himself, was having a *blast*. Hoo hoo, to think, *his* Bats defending his, eheh, honor, so to speak. He kicked back, amusedly taking in the unfolding scene before him. He musta really racked up the brownie points. It was sweet of the Bat to do this.

Really.

Now he knew his Bats would never really SAY anything to reward him for his darn good behavior. But that's why Joker liked him so much. Batsy may be a man of few words, but he definitely voiced his opinion loud enough through his actions. A real show rather than tell kinda guy.

Batman had gone silent once more, and Randy turned uncertainly to the colorful jester beside the dark figure.

"What's to stop him from ah- shooting or stabbin' me or somethin' anyway?" Randy, who looked completely horrified at himself even as he said it, asked.

"...ME." Batman growled.

Randy swallowed, hard. Then turned back to the Joker, "S-s-so sorry Joker."

Joker looked unfazed, brows mid raised as he shrugged, "I don't know if I can-"

"Joker..."

"Haha, just kiddin' Bats! Of course I accept your apology, Rrrrrandy." Joker chuckled.

That sinister gleam in the maniac's eye shot a deep shudder through Ackerson's spine.

Nodding, Batman turned and started walking away, leaving the surprised kid hanging in the wind.

"H-hey wait! What do I do now?! I can't get down from here!" Randy exclaimed, struggling with the cord still snagged around his ankle.

Batman stopped, turned and went back to the boy. He retracted the wire faster than either of them could blink. So quick when there was no longer anything keeping Randy up he almost seemed to hang in the air for two beats. Then the blonde plummeted over the edge, wailing. But Batman had strolled over for a reason.

Quickly snagging the boy's collar, Batman had the boy hanging right side up, dragging his pimply face closer to his own as he ordered, "You will *give* the money back. *And* alert the proper authorities. I want this man's name cleared. You *DON'T* want to see me again."

"O-okay." Randy's lower lip trembled.

Then Batman dropped him, not even looking over the ledge as he turned and walked away. Joker's brows were raised, impressed by the turn of events. He heard the clank of a whiny body hitting the fire escape landing, below and out of sight, as well as the yelp of the brat. Shoulda known Batsy wouldn't a killed him. Curious himself, Joker took the few steps to the ledge, glancing over.

Sure enough, there the gangly kid was. Sore, scared, but very much alive.

Randy looked up as the Joker leaned over.

"But I don't have the money anymore..." He sniffled, "What should I...?"

Joker, not an ounce of sympathy in his bleeding heart, shrugged, "Figure it out kid. Here, this'll get ya started."

He flipped the quarter out of his pocket, grin lighting his face as it landed loudly in the middle of the panicked boy's forehead. The sharp smack was just as satisfying as the whelp's startled shout.

Dusting himself off, Joker turned to find Batman waiting on the other end of the rooftop, silently observing him. Strolling over to the dark figure, Joker grinned broadly, "That was nicer than flowers, Bats. So thoughtful of you."

"Hm." Batman grunted, offering an arm. Joker gladly sprang into the vigilante, nearly toppling both over the edge. Bruce merely gave a harsh sigh, adjusting the Joker's firm hold, then leaping into the night, Joker in tow.

He could act indifferent all he wanted.

But Joker knew better.

-o-o-o-

"I see the rumors are true..." Gordon trailed, over the chocking fit he had in his initial shock. Not trusting of the purple sleeved mastermind, Gordon eyed him warily as he addressed the Bat, "I thought the Wayne kid had this one under his care. Hell of a custodial battle against the courts and Gotham, I hear."

"Too much to handle for Mr. Wayne. Thought I'd lend a hand. Help keep Joker in line." Batman replied, glancing at the smirking jester, "You know how pent up animals tend to get wild."

This only broadened that manic grin. Joker chuckled, before casually strolling away over to the Bat signal, bent over as though thoroughly examining it.

Batman remembered the crazed man's spouted fantasy, and thanked everything that he wore a mask and that it was dark out. He shifted his stance.

"You would vouch for him?" Gordon asked, voice lowered though they both knew Joker could hear them.

Batman weighed a hard stare straight at the Joker. Without turning back to Gordon, he said without hesitation, "I would."

Joker continued his deep investigation of the flood light. But nothing could hide the corner of a genuine, painted smile that Batman caught on the side of Joker's face.

After observing the two, Commissioner Gordon nodded. Clearing his throat, he clapped his hands together once, rubbing the cold out as he declared, "All right. Good enough for me. But I'm warning you, Batman, he steps out of line *just* once-"

"You leave that to me." Batman reassured firmly. His tone left no room for argument.

They stared at each other for a moment, silent in their mutual understanding and regard of the other.

Then Joker burst through the silent bubble, as he inquired loudly, "Oooh, hee hee. Where can I get me one of these bad boys? They for sale, glasses?"

"No, the flood light is NOT for sale." Gordon immediately snapped, turning to berate the younger man, "Now step away from it before you hurt yourself, or worse, break it."

"Ooh hee hee hee, touchy touchy, co-mmiss-ionER." Joker giggled, stepping away nonetheless. Boy was this good stuff ridiculous and bor-ing. He gave Batman a speculative look, "I was just, ah, admiring its design. Large enough to utilize for other things, wouldn'tcha say, Batsy?"

Though he burned a hidden crimson underneath the suit, Batman remained rigid, saying perhaps a little too sharply, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Joker's brows raised at the quickly delivered retort, seeing more than Bruce ever wished he see as he read further into the Bat's response.

Joker hmmed thoughtfully. Perhaps old Brucy and his Bat did a little storytelling, then. His grin widened at that prospect, throwing a secretive smile in the vigilante's direction.

Which Batman promptly ignored, turning back to Gordon to focus on matters at hand. Which, coincidentally, had *nothing* to do about perverse lunatic fantasies and more to do with information gathering about the Syndicate.

He would just have to hope the Joker would forget this little slip.

But the way the Jester was undressing him right then would those icy blues, made it highly unlikely.

-o-o-o-

"I never did thank you, for tonight, Batsy." Joker purred as Batman dropped him off back in the same balcony.

When the jester remained attached to his side, Batman pried himself bluntly out of the hold, "Don't mention it."

"Okay," Batman definitely did NOT like that scheming green in that painted face, "I, ah, heh heh, won'T."

Then Joker promptly proceeded to attack him.

Caught off guard, it wasn't until Joker had painted lips over his own that he realized what the maniac was after.

Tearing the man off him, Batman stepped back, heart racing. He didn't like how the Joker easily made his blood race through his veins, a heated flush jetting through his system at that brief contact.

He raised a pointed finger, eyes narrowed as he warned gruffly, "That's enough, Joker."

Joker shrugged innocently, taking a few casual steps to the side, as not to set off the charged Bat, "Can't blame a gal for wanting to get fresh on a first date, can ya Batsy?"

"This is NOT a-mmff!"

Then Batman found himself with a colorful handful of expensive suit and needy jester, mouth made busy by the greedy lips encasing them. It shot a molten heat straight to his core, his fists flexing uselessly at his sides, where they had frozen mid-motion to thwart the impulsive clown. Bruce Wayne was beyond flustered at the immediate turn of events.

Batman was livid.

But he couldn't pinpoint it's origin. Was he mad at the Joker, or himself?

Attempts to shrug off those purple sleeved arms was a struggle, so Batman began fighting for each backward step he could to make. The Joker, obligingly, followed step by gained step, wily tongue too busy prying into the tightly sealed lips of the affronted Bat. Joker knew Batman had the strength of possibly a hundred men put together. So the mere fact that kissing him, well, had these sort of results...

Well it was an ego boost at worst, and an entirely huge turn on at best, his painted face grinning at his luck.

They both ended up stumbling over an open window at Bruce's back, toppling the kevlar-clad behemoth onto polished marble floors. Before he could gain his breath or his footing, Joker immediately had the man's wrists pinned above his pointed head, grinning down at that fierce scowl.

"Joker..." Batman rumbled warningly, chest heaving as he pulled testingly against the jester's firm hold. As he feared, it would not budge.

"So did he tell you...?" Joker asked, looking pleased with himself. He leaned down, mouth next to those pointed ears, "Did Brucy tell you what we talked about during one of our, heh, dates?"

Batman jerked his head away, snarling, "I don't know what you're talking about. Now move before I *make* you move."

"Oh haha ha, but you can't Batsy. Not when I do THIS." Joker pointed out with a sensual grind against the vigilante's trapped form. It drew a pleasurable hiss from the Bat underneath him, that strong jaw too clenched to let anything else slip through. Chuckling again, Joker sat back and looked at Batman, "You can't tell me he didn't. Not when I can see so clearly he, ah, he DID."

"You are trying my patience, Joker. Stop this." Batman snarled through gritted teeth.

"Hoo hoo, always the fighter arentcha? Even against the inevitable! Hee ahee hee."

"What? The inevitable feel of my fist ramming that smug smirk off your painted face?" Batman rumbled, bucking angrily.

But the Joker was as wily as he was strong. He had spent years in straight jackets and against numerous meatheads much stronger than him. But that's what they mostly were. Muscle heads. Men who were more brute and brawn than anything. They didn't know how to use simple tricks to pin a stronger opponent. Didn't know how to turn the tables when they were outmatched. Outgunned.

Batman, of course, was a different breed.

He knew these tricks. Was trying everything that should have worked against someone doing what the jester was doing.

Unfortunately, Batman had one slight miscalculation.

This was the Joker.

And he was the Batman.

And there was *NOTHING* that could keep the painted Prince of Crime away.

"Always, eheh, with the jokes, eh Batman? C'mon, I just wanna thank you..." Joker chuckled, admiring the flustered Bats as he dipped into another grind. Batman had his jaw clenched, resolute in not letting any sound through.

When he caught his breath, the caped crusader bit out, "I don't WANT your-"

"Oh but I *INSIST*." Joker growled, his obsession taking over his painted features.

Before Batman knew it, he heard the unmistakable click of his utility belt coming unbuckled. That latch was hidden. Was supposed to be untraceable. Trust the Joker to find the unfindable.

Batman growled, voice equally deep, "*NO*."

He punched the Joker across the jaw, hard. The painted man had caught his fist, but in what Batman had believed was a second too late. Only to realize...

The Joker was chuckling, and Batman found an unusual tightness around his Kevlar-armored wrist. He yanked his wrist back, not enough to get out of the Joker's tight grip, but enough to see the titanium-weaved rope that was currently tied securely around it. Bruce's black-rimmed gaze widened. The Joker smiled.

Fuck.

He backpedaled on the ground, fighting ferociously as he struggled to throw the suited man off. Flashes of the hospital, the limousine, attacked his nerves, enflaming his senses. His movements seemed sluggish in their slowness, his strength not up to par. How did the Joker affect him like this? It was maddening.

Cackling, Joker followed the clipped Bat inch by gained inch, reaching for the other balled fist Bats kept out of reach.

"C'mon Bats. Ya know you wanna hit me again. Do it. Just HIT me!" Joker spurred on, voice hitting that deep baritone it would in his growing excitement. There was a growing madness in the painted man's gaze. Taunting Bruce. Beckoning him to just give in.

They were both outcasts of this world.

Why not enjoy their loneliness together?

Batman growled, flipping the Joker off of him as he turned to get on his knees, preparing to stand.

Big mistake.

He was shoved to the ground by a powerful ball of painted jester, his wind temporarily knocked out of him as his chest hit the ground. He tried to jerk his free hand out of harm's way, but it was pointless. And much too late.

With growing horror, he found his wrists bound together before he could blink, gloved hands meeting at the small of his caped back. With a final, desperate move, he kicked to bring himself on his back, kneeing the Joker in what he hoped was a painful spot. But it met air.

The Joker, wisely, had sprang back. He knew what a cornered tiger was like, even bound as the dangerous vigilante was. And he was on to those hidden projectiles in the Bat's armband arsenal. He had made sure the rope would be securely fastened below them. Something his Bats was discovering, as that scowl darkened, powerful tugging proving fruitless.

Batman made to stand, but Joker was back again, pinning the armored man to the ground.

"Atata ta," Joker admonished, "that trick in the jail cell won't work, uhhh, twice ya know? Hasn't anyone told you ya need to pull somethin' new outta your sleeve once in a while?"

"Should have known you wouldn't change." Batman spat as he fought to get the Joker off of him, growling, "Made a mistake trusting you."

"Whaaat? You can TRUST me, Bats. I told ya, I only want to THANK-"

"I told you. I. Don't. Want-"

"Someone's *lying* again." Joker sing-sang, tsking as he admonished once more, "Really Bats. You and this truth thing usually go, er, hand in hand. I guess that's not the case when it's, heh heh, something you *really* want, eh Bats? Something you can't even ADMIT to yourself, much less to little old ME."

Batman stilled at that.

It wasn't possible.

The Joker could not really see into the darkest depths of Bruce's mind.

Into that locked chest he kept hidden from view. Even from HIMSELF.

This was something his closest, Alfred, had ever seen.

Unless... The old butler had and had just never told...?

Batman shook his head.

No.

The Joker was wrong.

He was just up to his old mind games. Always loved to see Batman squirm.

There was just no way the Joker could be right.

"No, you're wrong." Batman uttered, his graveled tone caught in an undercurrent of anxious anger.

There was no way the Joker could be right. Not with something like this.

Bruce had his sanity at stake.

It was enough realizing he couldn't kick Batman out of his life. But the Joker too?

"Don't worry Bats." Joker crawled closer, "You'll come to your senses sooner or later. I hear it's not too healthy to have your own head shoved into your own ass for that long. No-P-e, not prescribable, that one."

The imminent danger of the jester's proximity and his own bound hands made alarm sirens go off in his head. No way was this going in a way he would have planned. Or wanted.

Not if his sane part had anything to say.

"Damn it, Joker. For the last time, back OFF." Batman warned, propelling himself back by sheer leg power alone, hoping to reach a wall to use as leverage to stand. Efforts to tug off the binds were fruitless.

"Playing hard to get, Batsy?" Joker chuckled, creeping closer.

The vigilante didn't designate that with a response, other than his trademark, hardened glare. Batman hit the wall, immediately attempting to stand.

But the Joker was on him faster than he could blink, pinning him down.

"At tatata, stop tryin' to spoil the fun."

Growling in his struggles, Batman bit out, "This is NOT fun."

"Of course not. Not *yet*." Joker stressed, before yanking off the unclipped utility belt. Bruce's eyes widened, making an instinctive grab for it, only to have his elbow jerk in that direction.

Joker made himself comfortable on the floor between Batman's bent legs. Bruce pressed back against the wall, eyeing the Joker as he tried to calculate the mad man's next move, the endless counter moves he could make trudging slowly through his numbed mind. It was infuriating.

Had the Joker slipped him something? Poison gas? Psychotropic drugs?

If only it were that simple or clear cut.

Batman would rather face the entire mob, their starving dogs, and his parents' killer again. At least with them he knew what to do. Beat 'em to submission, near death even, then toss them in jail. Or Arkham.

"Jo-gah!" Batman's voice was strangled as that mouth devoured him whole.

His covered helm hit the wall hard in his jerked reaction, the Joker crouched between his legs, doing things with his mouth that had Bruce's world on fire. The jester was too talented for his own good.

Batman swallowed, hard. He tried to keep his sounds to himself, but the way Joker's cheeks hollowed while that devil tongue did its magic, had grunts and strangled moans spilling out, uncontrolled, from Bruce's parted lips. He tugged once, twice, at his binds before his strength just completely failed him. He cursed himself. Cursed the Joker. The last must have slipped through, because the busy jester chuckled, the extra vibration wrenching a sinful groan as Batman curled forward, abs bunched in the delicious tension.

Bruce and Batman were having an internal war, struggling desperately to not give in.

But Joker, as he had proven time and again in the past, was very convincing when he wanted to be. And this was something he wanted very badly.

Gloved claws dig into suited legs, the extra sensation making the vigilante's muscles tremble.

Batman tried weakly to close the space between bent knees, but this only had the Joker forcing his legs wider apart, that painted grin wider at the Bat's feeble attempts.

Batman knocked his head against the wall, willingly this time, in an effort to reign in his senses. A part of him knew he just had to tap into his strength reserves, to fight the Joker. Shove the maniac away. But it was like the connection between his brain and motor functions had been severed. Neither were working properly at the moment, not helping Bruce's case one bit.

Joker's ministrations intensified, sensing Batman's resolve attempting to solidify.

Batman choked, heat flushing rapidly through him, bound fists clenching. The Kevlar creaked under the strain, his shoulders aching from their taut state, his chest heaving.

Joker grabbed the back of his Bat's resisting hips, taking in more and more of that glorious length into his mouth. He could taste the salty tang of pre-cum, and it was marvelous. So close. His Bats was so close, he could. Just. *TELL*. He hummed in delight, finding Bat's jerked shout in reaction absolutely delicious.

The Dark Knight was curled inward, pointed cowl hanging over his busy, mopped head. It was a glorious picture, Joker was just sure of it. Handcuffed Knight, in Wayne's dimly lit hallway, so completely at Joker's mercy. His Bats was strong. Strong enough to toss the Joker around, even handcuffed as he was. But this way Joker had so much *control*. It would be entirely too funny, if the Clowned Prince of Crime wasn't so busy getting hot and heavy off the idea.

To think he could have won so many fights, so many games, if he had just given Batsy a blow job. Heh eheh heh.

He could feel the raw power at his fingertips, covered in that tough leather suit. Massive strength crumbled to nothing under his fingertips. He chuckled again, drawing a large groan out of the other. Ooh, Bats was a tough one. But Joker enjoyed the challenge.

Bruce knew this was a losing battle.

The trick was not letting the Joker realize that as well.

-o-o-o-

a/n: horrible place to stop. I know. I just read it and know it sucks to stop here. But I'm going to be stepping away for a while, and thought I'd throw this out there. Any suggestions for how Joker finds out, feel free to toss 'em my way. Just warning that I won't be getting back for quite some time.


End file.
